You Can't Fool Me
by howzitthen
Summary: We check in on Nick and Jess three weeks after their decision.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I saw that episode last night. I was not immune.**

Nick shuffled down the hall, wiping the lack of sound sleep from his eyes. He took a whiff of the front of his grey t-shirt. Smelled like Nick. And not the good vintage. He yawned as he neared the kitchen, where Winston, Schmidt, and Jess were all already well into their Saturday morning. They sat circled around the island, sipping coffee and looking over the newspaper. Schmidt and Winston were already dressed for the day, Schmidt in his standard blue button down and khakis, and Winston in a burgundy polo and jeans. Jess wasn't quite as together, still in her beige pajamas, glasses hanging from her face.

"It lives," Schmidt mocked as Nick approached.

"Jury's still out on that one," Nick offered, checking the coffee machine to see if there was any left.

"Long night?" Jess asked quietly.

"You could say that," Nick replied, walking over to the fridge. He opened it and pulled out a carton of orange juice. "It was Bob's five year anniversary of working at the bar, so we had a little after party. May have pushed myself a bit more than I needed to."

"No kidding?" Winston said. "I nearly tripped over you this morning."

"I don't remember."

"Well, do you remember Furguson sleeping on your face?"

"No. But that would explain the cotton mouth," Nick said, taking down a gulp of orange juice straight from the carton.

"That would also explain the, uh, scratches on your face," Schmidt said, pointing at Nick.

"Don't be so sure of that," Jess added. "Nick hasn't fully mastered the razor yet."

"I do fine with my razors, Jess. It's only when I used to borrow your lady Bics that things got… sketchy."

"Hmm. I'm not so sure about that," Jess continued, looking at Schmidt. "He refuses to use a mirror, won't spend money on shaving cream…"

"I do just fine," Nick interrupted.

"No, sometimes you did fine," Jess said with a smile. "Other times using the shower after you felt like walking into a MASH unit."

"Nick, if you need some pointers…" Schmidt began.

"Zip it," Nick said to Schmidt. "And if I remember correctly, I'm not the only one who sometimes struggles with a razor," he said, turning to Jess.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"It means it couldn't hurt to step up your underarm maintenance regime from time to time," Nick said.

"Nick!" Jess exclaimed, scowling.

Schmidt gagged on his coffee and Winston slapped him on the back. Nick smiled, shook his head, and took the seat at the island next to Jess.

"I gotta say, you guys," Schmidt started. "I'm proud of you two. What's it been? Three weeks since you called it quits? And so far, nothing but mature, adult behavior out of the both of you."

"Thanks so much for your approval," Nick said dryly.

"No, I mean it. You guys have been great. It's just surprising. Especially you, Nick. I thought for sure we'd have to sound proof Winston's room to silence your midnight yowling. But… so far, so good."

"Thanks, pal."

"Yeah," Winston said. "You guys are handling this very well."

Nick looked at Winston and caught what he thought to be a glimpse of skepticism cross his face.

"Well, we were friends first," Nick said, still looking at Winston. "And we decided we work better that way. It's really not that complicated."

"Yeah," Jess added. "Nick's like by brotha from anotha motha."

"Ew," Schmidt said.

"Yeah, didn't really thing that one through, huh?" Winston added.

"My point remains," Jess said raising her index finger. "We got this."

As Jess finished her sentence, Schmidt's phone chimed in the middle of the island. He reached down to investigate, and immediately slammed his coffee cup down on the table.

"Dammit!"

"What's wrong?" Winston asked.

"Coach, the cheater, that's what's wrong. Look!" Schmidt said, showing Winston his phone. "He slipped out on us and he's scheduled himself a little one on one time Michelle without running it past us."

"Dirty pool!" Winston exclaimed.

"The dirtiest!"

"I don't know what's going on," Jess mumbled.

"Michelle is the goddess that moved in across the hall. Winston, Coach, and I have made a gentleman's wager. Whoever courts Michelle the most effectively, wins."

"But we've evened the playing field," Winston added. "We have to run our dates past each other. Time spent, money spent… everything has to be completely even."

"Romantic," Jess scoffed.

"Come, Winston," Schmidt said. "We have an unapproved date to ruin."

"I heard that," Winston said as the pair abruptly stood from the table and headed for the door. "I hate dirty poolers. Poolests? Help me out, Schmidt."

"No time!" Schmidt shouted as he reached the door. They slipped through, and the door slammed loudly behind them, leaving Nick and Jess sitting side by side at the island.

Jess looked down through her glasses at the quickly cooling mug of tea in her hands. Nick idly thumbed the flaps of the orange juice carton. They didn't speak. They hadn't really spoken to each other in almost three weeks. Their only interactions were the little sketches they played out for their roommates in order to keep them off the scent. They had decided before that the whole thing was going to be hard enough, and there was no reason to drag their roommates into it. So, the morning after they really did 'call it', they came to an agreement: as far as anyone in the loft knew, they were fine.

They had called Winston, Schmidt, and Coach together later that morning and told them their decision. Given the crowdedness of the loft, it was decided that Nick and Winston would bunk together, helping to lighten each of their financial loads. Jess and Nick had been convincing, but everyone was skeptical all the same. Over the past few days, however, the loft mates had accepted Nick and Jess at face value, and had started to think things weren't going to have to change all that much after all. It had been taxing for Nick. More taxing than he'd imagined. But he was resigned to the fact that it was the right thing to do.

Nick stood to get up and return to Winston's room. He turned to leave without looking at Jess, and paused.

"I'm sorry about last night," Nick said, speaking the first honest words he had spoken to Jess in weeks.

She sat in silence a moment longer. When she spoke, Nick shut his eyes at the hurt he heard in her voice. He didn't dare turn around.

"You can't do that to me, Nick. It's not fair."

Nick hung his head, unsure of his likely to be trembling voice. He cleared his throat.

"It won't happen again," he said, and walked back to Winston's room without turning back.

He shut Winston's door and leaned back into it, shutting his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he started to vividly see the same thing he saw nearly every time he closed his eyes anymore. It was that night. After they had realized Jess had nowhere to go, they had decided to share a bed one last time rather than raise alarm with the roommates. They had held each other, and looked into each other's eyes. They laughed, even. Standing with his back to Winston's door, he couldn't understand how that was possible. A night as painful as that.

People don't often get to know they're doing something for the last time as they're doing it. But Nick and Jess were fully aware that this was the last time for them. There was no sleep. As the sun came up and woke the other residents of the loft, they stayed put well into the late morning. It was only when Jess had to use the bathroom that the rose from the bed. She walked to the door and stopped. She then stepped back to the bed, took Nick by the head, and kissed him for the last time. As she pulled away, he saw her eyes fill with tears before she smiled and quickly turned, slipping through the door.

Nick forced his eyes open at the memory. He sniffed and reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. He had gotten drunk last night. Too drunk. And he had texted Jess. He searched through his message history, and was relieved to find that there were only a handful. He scrolled down to look at their last exchange, though he didn't need to. Despite his drunken state the night before, he knew exactly what was said. At 2:30 am, he had texted Jess: **I don't understand how this is so easy for you**. Three minutes later, she had texted him back the words that made his body go cold:

**What do you want me to say? Do you want me to say I miss you? That should be obvious.**

Nick went to fire the phone across the room, but stopped himself when he heard the sound of Jess' feet making their way down the hall. He listened as her footsteps slowed at the door to her room, and then stopped. For what seemed like minutes they were silent. Nick turned and rested his forehead on the door, and fingered the wood grain with his right hand. After a few moments, he heard Jess' feet moving, quickly followed by the sound of her door softly clicking shut.

Nick pushed himself from the door with his forehead, and wandered into the middle of the room. How had they gotten here so fast? One minute, a kiss. The next minute, Mexico. The next? I love you. The next? I miss my friend? What did that even mean? How had he gotten everything he ever wanted, and then lost it all? And how had he done it so damn fast?

From behind him, he heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. He spun around, wiping his eyes, and found Winston standing in front of him with a look of intent on his face.

"Winnie, how'd it go with…"

"Stop it, Nick," Winston said, raising his hand. "Just stop it. You don't think I can see what's going on? You know better than that. You can't fool me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Still a bummer, yeah?**

"I'm asking you to stop it, Nick," Winston said, closing the door behind him. "I've known you for 20 years, man. I _know_ you. And I know when something ain't right with you."

Nick stared at Winston. The man knew him too well. Nick stuffed his phone in his pocket and sniffed. He lightly ran his hand over the side of his head. Winston's expression never changed, and he never took his eyes off of Nick.

"What do you want me to say, man," Nick said looking down. "That… that I'm not okay?"

Winton's gaze softened as he listened to Nick, nodding for him to continue.

"She's right across the hall, Winston. She's sleeping in the bed I've slept in for years, and I'm on the floor of your room, sleeping in cat litter. That's if I sleep at all. Last night was the first night I've gotten more than an hour or two in weeks, and I just… I…"

"Nick. What. Happened?"

"I don't know what happened, man." Nicks said, shaking his head. "It just… things were great, and then they were over. And now? Now everything is just… wrong. She sleeps ten feet down the hall every night, in my bed, and I can't… I can't…." Nick trailed off as his breathing got heavier and heavier.

"Hey, hey," Winston said as he walked up to Nick and grabbed him by the shoulders. "We need to get you out of here for a bit. Get some air. Come on."

Winston bent down and grabbed Nick's shoes off the floor and handed them to him. Nick sat down on Winston's bed and slipped them on as Winston cracked the door and peeked through. Nick picked a green hoodie from the floor and stood up.

"All set?" Winston asked.

Nick nodded and followed Winston out the door. As they walked past the room that he had shared with Jess, he felt his stomach twist, and he became light headed. He lurched past Winston in the hallway, and made his way to the front door, the idea of fresh air no longer just a good idea, but an outright necessity. He felt a little better as soon as he got outside the loft, and better still as the door to 4D closed behind him. He quickly walked to the elevator and jabbed the button several times before turning to Winston.

"Good idea, man." Nick said. "I'm feeling…"

The elevator pinged, and the doors separated to reveal a somber looking Cece standing behind them, arms folded. She was anxiously running her hand up and down the sleeve of her black sweater when she noticed Nick and Winston.

"Hey… guys," she said.

"Hey Cece," Winston offered. "We were…"

"Yeah, I was just…" Cece began, but there was no further explanation necessary. She stepped out of the elevator and took a few brisk steps past them towards the loft. She stopped just as Winston got in the elevator, and turned back towards them.

"Hey, Nick," she said, slowly approaching.

"Yeah?" Nick grumbled.

He hadn't seen Cece since that night. She had booked a few modeling gigs in the recent weeks, and that combined with his own truancy from the bar had meant their schedules at work hadn't overlapped in some time. He didn't know what Jess had told her, and he didn't what to expect as she neared. He was a little surprised when she stopped just before him, her dark eyes filled with sincerity. She offered a small smile and wrapped her arms softly around him, bringing him in for a gentle hug.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she said into his shoulder. She gave him a final squeeze before releasing him. Nick's eyes followed her down the hall until she disappeared into the loft. As he stood looking at door, he started to feel the knot return to his stomach. He turned back to Winston in the waiting elevator and stepped in.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he said, pushing the button for the lobby.

* * *

Cece knocked twice before letting herself into Jess' room. After making her way through the cramped hodge-podge of both Nick and Jess' belonging, she found herself at the foot of the bed where she could make out Jess' small frame, completely covered by a grey comforter.

"Hey, babe," Cece said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "How's it today then?"

After a long silence, a small sigh came from beneath the blanket.

"Well, did he have any explanation for last night?" Cece continued.

"He was drunk," Jess murmured.

"So… is Nick an angry drunk, or is he more of a 'riding high on truth serum' drunk?"

Again, after a long pause, Jess' voice came from beneath the comforter.

"Both."

"I'm sorry Jess, but it's a little hard to have this conversation with you right now. I don't even know which end of you I should be talking to."

Jess's body turned under the comforter and she pulled part if it aside so Cece could make out about half of her face. Her eyes were red, her hair matted, and her skin pale. Cece tried to mask the concern in her own reaction to seeing Jess like that. She tilted her head and offered Jess as reassuring a smile as she could manage. But it didn't matter. Jess wasn't looking at her.

"Can you shut the door?" Jess asked softly.

Cece nodded, stood up, and made her way to the door. She clicked it shut, and turned back to see that Jess hadn't moved, but she was now looking at Cece from beneath the covers, the right half of her face still hidden by the comforter. Cece noticed with dismay that Jess' normally striking blue eyes were dulled, seemingly absorbing the grey from comforter that enveloped her. Perhaps equally clouded by what was weighing on her mind.

"So, Nick was drunk. No shock there. Especially... considering," Cece said stepping past the bed to the window beyond Nick's writing desk. Though there was still a slight odor of burnt fabric, the fire hadn't really done much damage. At least not to the room, Cece thought as she opened the window. She returned to the bed and sat down at Jess' back. "What did he say?"

"He… he asked me why this was easy for me. Like I'm doing just fine in here with all of his crap, and all his… Like I'm happy about this, like it was my doing."

"Well... this is what you both wanted, right?"

"Yeah, I mean…"

"It's not like you guys didn't know this would be hard. I mean, it's hard enough just to break up. But to live with the person you just broke up with?"

"I know."

"You guys are bound to have second thoughts."

"I guess. But we decided together. We made the decision together. It wasn't working. We still love each other, but it was never going to work. We're just too… different."

Cece took a moment to collect her thoughts. He best friend was crushed. She was in the fetal position on her ex-boyfriend's bed on a Saturday morning, crushed. Cece took a deep breath and didn't share her thoughts on still being in love with someone yet choosing not to be with them. The circumstances were too different, and any comparison of the two situations would likely end with Cece being at odds with Jess. And Jess needed her friend right now. Advice could come later.

"Jess, let's get you cleaned up. And then let's get you out of this room."

"I'm tired, Cece."

"Jess, that isn't a request. When Schmidt and I…" Cece trailed off. She didn't mean to draw comparisons yet. She wasn't sure there were many to draw. "Let's just say I know for a fact how little is going to come of you staying shut in your room all day."

"Cece, I…"

"No excuses, Jess. It's for your own good," Cece said, tugging at the covers. After some feeble resistance from Jess, Cece succeeded it yanking the comforter away. She smiled as Jess sat up, apparently accepting Cece's mandate.

"There, now we're talking," Cece said, smiling her encouragement. Now, you go get cleaned up and I'll grab you something to wear. We'll go downstairs and, I dunno, grab some coffee or something. Get you some sunlight."

"I really don't…" Jess protested one last time.

"Hup-bup," Cece shushed. "We're doing this. It's done. Get in the shower."

Jess stood up, dropped a piece of clothing to the bed, and gave Cece an exhausted look. As Jess trudged off to the shower, Cece looked back to the bed with a frown. She picked up the shirt Jess had apparently been hugging under the covers. As she turned the weathered red and brown fabric in her hands, Cece realized immediately that it was one of Nick's flannels. Cece thought a moment. She waited to hear the sound of Jess drawing the shower curtain closed, and then stepped out into the hallway. She tiptoed to Winston's door, cracked it, and tossed the shirt into the room before quietly shutting the door behind her. She paused a moment in the hallway, momentarily questioning her action, before returning to Jess' room to find her some clean clothes for the day.

* * *

Winston stood under the food cart's red umbrella, fumbling with his wallet. He slipped the vendor a two bucks, ducked under the umbrella, and headed across the lazy boulevard. Nick was reclining on a concrete bench, arms folded, green hood pulled down over his eyes. Winston approached and sat beside Nick on the bench. After a few moments of not being acknowledged, Winston elbowed Nick in the shoulder. Nick jerked, shaking the hood from his head.

"You fell asleep, man," Winston said.

"Really? Hadn't noticed," Nick replied, blinking his eyes.

"Here, I got you something," Winston said, offering Nick a large soft pretzel wrapped in wax paper.

"I'm not really that hungry. I'm good."

"You're anything but good, Nick. When's the last time you ate?"

"Depends. Does Bacardi count?"

"No."

"Jack?"

"Uh-uh."

"Absolute?"

"Nick."

"I dunno, man. I think we started the night with a martini. May have had an olive or two in the…"

"Here, eat up," Winston said, forcing the pretzel into Nick's hand.

"Where's the mustard?" Nick said, frowning.

"Nick, eat the damn pretzel!"

Nick took a bite of the pretzel to appease Winston. After swallowing the first bite, he realized he was pretty hungry, and he greedily inhaled the remainder of the pretzel as Winston looked on. He brushed the salt from his hands and leaned back into the bench.

"Feel better?" Winston asked.

"Not especially."

"So," Winston said, looking around. "How'd you find this spot anyway?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Fair enough. That mean you're ready to talk about it?"

"Winston," Nick said, grimacing. "I don't know what there is to talk about."

"Well, let's start with the real reason you and Jess ended things."

"We told you guys…"

"I know what you told us. And I also know that's crap."

"How…"

"I saw what she did to you, man. I've never seen you so happy. So absent of misery. Of anger. Now, you're about the dumbest boy I know, Nick. Honest to God. But even you aren't stupid enough to throw that away."

"You don't know what you're talking…"

"I'm serious, Nick. What. Happened?"

"She wasn't happy," Nick said, sitting forward to look at the ground. "There. Good enough reason for you?"

Winston took a moment to consider what Nick said. Nick didn't move his eyes from the ground. After a minute, Winston squinted his eyes and shook his head.

"Nah. Nah, that don't fly either, Nick. I know Jess pretty well, too. Not like you, but I know her enough to know that that girl was nuts about you. Which, for her is saying something. I mean, why else would she…"

"I asked myself that question every day, Winston. Why would she…"

"That's not what I meant, Nick. I…"

"Look, she told me, okay? She said she loved me but that it isn't enough. We fight too much, we have nothing in common. It's not enough. I'm not enough."

"She said that?"

"Yeah."

"And that's how you see it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters, Nick. Do you agree with her?"

"I don't know. Yeah, I mean, we fight a lot. We like different things. There were things that were maybe a little easier before. But… I just… I want her to be happy. And I'm… I'm clearly not getting the job done."

"Nick, I know how you get, man. Are you sure you two were…"

"I don't want to talk about, okay?" Nick said, standing up. "I just… I'm glad you got me out of the loft. I'm glad you got me to eat a pretzel with no mustard. But Winston, I…"

Winston looked up at Nick and regretted pressing the issue. Nick ran from his problems. Always had. And cornering him on something like this wasn't going to do anybody any good. Winston nodded his acceptance to Nick, but in his head, he wasn't convinced of what he was telling him. It just didn't make sense.

"Okay, man. We don't have to talk about it," Winston said, standing up. "So what do you want to do, then?"

Nick looked around and lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. He lowered his gaze, and settled his hands back into his pockets sheepishly.

"Well… I know you're not going to be on board with this," Nick said. "But my head is just killing me. I want to swing by the bar. Whip up a Bloody Mary."

"Man, you just…"

"I know, I know. But I'm just gonna have one. Little hair of the dog, okay?"

"I don't think…"

"Look, let's make a deal," Nick said, lifting his hands to rub his temples. "I don't want to go back to the loft any time soon, okay? Let's go to the bar. After that? Your call. Sound good?"

Winston looked at Nick, trying to read him. He didn't think it was a real good idea to take Nick to a bar at noon, but he also believed Nick when he said he only planned on stopping by long enough to partake in his go-to hangover remedy. The one thing Winston did agree with was that it would do Nick some good to steer clear of the loft, and Jess, for a little while longer.

"Okay, man," Winston finally said. "Let's do it. But I'm gonna give Schmidt and Coach a call, too."

"Whoa, Winston. I don't know if I want…"

"What, you don't want you and Jess' little charade to end? Fine," Winston said, shrugging his shoulders. "But it won't be long before they figure it out, too. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right. But I'll worry about that later," Nick said. He looked past Winston as he spoke, clapped him on the shoulder, and started walking towards the bar.

**PS - Prob going to take a step back from this one for a week or so. Was in the middle of another story that I was taking a different approach to, so going to work on that for a bit. Also felt I kind of rushed this chapter, so I may take more time with the next one. Thanks for the kind words and, of course, for reading in the first place.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter may get a bit bipolar, but such is being a New Girl fan these days.**

Nick stood behind the bar, reached underneath, and produced a bottle of Tobasco sauce. He tapped a few dashes into the red liquid of the glass in front of him before replacing the bottle. Grabbing a straw from one of the settings across the bar, he gave his drink a stir and took a sip. A long, long sip. After downing about a third of the drink, he finally came up for air, shaking his head.

"Feel better?" Winston asked from his seat at the bar.

"Needs something," Nick said, reaching to the row of bottles behind him. He turned back, holding a bottle of vodka, and poured its contents until his glass was full again.

"Seems helpful," Winston said, unamused.

"That's the idea, anyway," Nick said returning the bottle to the island behind him. He took another sip and started rummaging with something under the bar. "So what time are Frick and Frack supposed to get here?"

"Any minute now," Winston said, looking to the door. "Listen, Nick. How much longer do you think you can keep this up?"

"Keep what up?" Nick said, still fussing about under the bar.

"Don't start with me. You know what. How long do you think you can keep acting like you and Jess are fine."

"For all I know she is fine," Nick said, not lifting his eyes from below the bar.

"I think you know better than that."

"Not really," Nick said, looking up. He stared past Winston for a moment. "But to answer your question, I just need to keep this up until I'm over it. That's all."

"That's all, eh? Simple," Winston said shaking his head. "It's not simple when you're clearly still-"

"Just for you, my man," Nick said, lifting an enormous cocktail glass filled with a bright, frothy, yellow liquid. The rim of the glass was garnished with several strawberries, an orange slice, a red curly straw, and a large, pink umbrella. "From scratch."

"What is _this_ magnificence?" Winston asked. His eyes widened as they took in the drink. He looked up at Nick, and then back to the drink.

"It's called a Fluffy Duck. Should be right up your alley."

"What's in it?"

"Fruit, sugar, weak booze. Have at it," Nick said. He looked down and frowned, noting that Winston had already taken to the drink's straw into his mouth.

Winston took a few small sips and smacked his lips together. He closed his eyes before smiling to himself.

"Tastes like I'm sliding down a rainbow straight into a leprechaun's pot of gold!"

"I've heard that," Nick said, returning to his Bloody Mary. He wiped his brow with a towel, and stared off into the bar. There was no escape to be found here. He saw her everywhere. At some point in time, Jess had occupied every seat at the bar, and every booth in the building. He nervously spun the glass in his hand, trying to figure out a place he could go when the door to the bar slammed, snapping him from his thoughts.

"And these two drunks," Schmidt said, walking angrily towards the bar. "It's hardly noon, and they're already imbibing."

"You gotta try this," Winston said, not taking the straw from his mouth.

"Pass," Schmidt said, sitting next to Winston.

"You look like you're drinking a Pikachu," Coach said, pulling up on the other side of Winston. He rolled up the sleeves of his navy blue jumpsuit, and turned to Nick. "That actually doesn't look too bad. I'll take one. And how bout you shoot one over to Grumplestiltsken over there, too. Boy needs to chillax."

"I will not 'chill-ax'," Schmidt said making airquotes with his fingers. "Winston, do you want to hear what this cheater did on his unsanctioned date with Michelle today?"

"I'm all ears, Schmidt," Winston said with a smile. "Nothing you say can get to me for the next 4-6 minutes, so have at it."

Nick shook his head and reached into the cooler under the bar. He ignored Coach's request, and pulled out two Heislers, setting them unopened in front of Coach and Schmidt. He again went back to his Bloody Mary, and tried to ignore his roommates. He had about 45 minutes until the bar opened, and he wanted to get out of there before the regulars started trickling in.

"Coach took Michelle down to his gym today. Gave her a free session. I know what you're thinking, and no, that is not a euphemism."

"So?" Coach shrugged. "Our date went one hour and cost me zero dollars. You guys are free to match."

"Zero dollars?" Schmidt remarked, growing even more upset. "What am I, a homeless preschooler?"

"Hold up," Winston said, still savoring his beverage. "I don't have a job. I kind of like free."

"Winston," Schmidt yelled, standing up. "You are just as worthless as a… as a… as a white crayon!"

"Why you gotta bring race into, Schmidt?" Coach asked softly.

"I didn't mean…"

"White crayons are…," Winston said, lifting his hand in a scribbling motion. "You know, you just need some black construction paper."

"That's kind of beautiful, man," Coach said smiling. "Real Ebony and Ivory vibe."

Nick kept to his drink and allowed his thoughts to drown out his roommates' banter. But in his mind, all roads led back to Jess. No matter where he tried to steer his train of thought, it always came back to Jess. He started to chew his straw, and replayed the conversation in his head. She had said they had nothing in common, and then said they should break up. Right? She said she loved him, but it wasn't enough. Right? Nick rubbed his eyes and looked off towards a random booth to clear his head. It took all of three seconds before his mind made the connection. He and Jess had spent the better part of an hour in that booth the night of his health scare, before he ended up freezing on the beach, sleeping beside her. Before they were really even friends let alone…

"Nick!" Schmidt shouted, breaking his concentration.

"What the hell?" Nick shouted back, confused.

"We need a ruling here," Schmidt continued. "An outside moderator, someone with no stake in the game. Coach's play, fair or foul?"

"I don't want to rule on your little game, Schmidt."

"Why not? Oh!" Schmidt said, suddenly alarmed. "Now that you and Jess are done, does that mean you want in on it, too? Because the way you hand out free drinks here, that's hardly a fair…"

"Shut it, Schmidt. I don't want…" Nick said scowling. He took a breath to calm himself before continuing. "I need to ask you something," he continued. He was so tired of everything. He was tired of being tired. He looked over at Winston before continuing. "But... there is something I wanted to run past you guys.

* * *

Jess sat sullenly outside the coffee shop, her glasses pushed up tight across her nose. Cece had attempted to coax her into one of her bright, colorful dresses, but Jess had opted for a black sweater and jeans. She put her elbows on the table, rested her chin in her hands and tried to stop thinking. They had stopped to grab a tea before heading out to catch a movie. There was an old German film playing at the movie house down the street, and Jess hoped it would prove distracting for a little while. At minimum, a place where she could go think in peace.

"Here you go," Cece said, approaching her from behind. She set a mug of tea in front of Jess, then scooted around the table and took a seat next to her. Cece put her hands around her own mug to warm them, and looked at Jess expectedly.

"What kind is it?" Jess mumbled.

"I don't remember exactly, but the word 'Zen' was in there somewhere, so I figured..."

"Good call," Jess said, taking a sip.

Cece took a sip of her own drink and waited. She had hoped the fresh air, sun, and a little time away from the loft would've done Jess some good. So far, her mood had yet to elevate even the slightest.

"So, anything you want to… talk about?" Cece offered.

"Look, Cece, I know what you're thinking. And I know you want to help, but right now, I think I just need some time."

"How much time do you think you need?"

"I dunno," Jess said, pressing the cup to her lips. "All of it?"

"I see," Cece said, forcing a humorless smile and leaning back in her chair. As she did so, she saw a familiar face approach them from behind Jess. "Oh no."

"Oh no what?" Jess answered.

"I'm sorry, Jess. I know you're probably not up for company, and I didn't plan this, but…"

"Hey, beautiful," Buster said, nervously playing with the sleeves of his denim shirt. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Hey, Buster. Have you met my friend Jess yet?"

"The famous Jess? I don't believe so," Buster said. He offered Jess a small waive and genuine smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Jess."

"Ditto," Jess said, barely looking up from her tea.

"So, what are you doing here, Buster" Cece said, hoping he didn't get the wrong idea about Jess.

"Actually, I'm meeting a friend," he said.

"You're meeting a friend… here?" Cece asked.

"Yeah. It's actually the closest coffee house to my place," Buster answered. "I don't have a car, so I have to keep a pretty tight perimeter."

"Makes sense," Cece nodded. "So, where's your friend?"

"Getting the coffee," he answered, gesturing to the coffee shop door. "He'll be out directly. Do you… think we might join you for a bit? He's new to the States, too, and I'm sure he'd thrilled to spend a few moments with such lovely ladies."

"Oooh, I'm not sure…" Cece started.

"Plus, it'll make me look really, really cool in front of my mate."

"Yeah, the thing is, Jess and I were just…"

"It's fine," Jess said, finally offering Buster a meek smile. "Movie doesn't start for a half hour. Besides… it's time I got to know the famous Buster."

"Fantastic," Buster said. He looked to the coffee shop door and waved. A very young man about Buster's height with long, blond hair, wearing a red polo and jeans came through the shop doors holding a paper cup in each hand. He nodded, and made his way over. He handed a cup to Buster and looked down and Cece and Jess.

"Cece, Jess. This is my friend Kip. Kip, this is Cece and Jess. They've been good enough to invite us to sit for a bit."

"Well, hello there," Kip said, smiling. "Much obliged." He and Buster pulled out the extra seats to the table and sat down.

"So, how do you know Buster?" Cece asked.

"Oh, we got set up in the same Hostel," Kip said. "We're both from Australia, so… fast friends."

"Small world," Cece said.

"Small indeed," Kip said, smiling at Jess. "So, Cece. Buster tells me you're a model. How about you, Jess. You a model too?

"Ha, hardly," Jess laughed. "No, I'm a teacher. A teacher of children."

"Shaping young minds, I see," Kip continued. "How noble. What level do you teach?"

"6th grade," Jess said, offering an insincere smile. "I've been at it for... ten years now? So… technically you guys are the same age as some of my former students. I could've had you in my class."

"And what does that mean?" Kip said with a smile. "You could've taught me something?"

"That means that you can save your breath," Buster said leaning into Kip. "She's not interested."

"Fair enough", Kip said putting up his hands in mock defense. "Can't blame a fella, right?"

"I'm sorry," Jess said, "I don't mean to be rude, but…"

"No worries," Kip said, smiling. "This Crocodile Dundee charm works on a lot of ladies. A swing and a miss here won't bruise my ego too badly."

"Clearly," Jess said, returning to her tea.

She listened a little longer to the conversation. Kip was in town on a soccer scholarship, but had chosen to live off campus to get more of the LA experience. Buster seemed like a really nice guy. He looked at Cece with sweetness, and had the good sense to turn bashful when Kip got a little blue in front of the ladies. For his part, Kip didn't force any further unwanted flirtation on Jess. He instead took to eying a table of young, blond sorority types seated at the table next to them. It wasn't long before Jess' own thoughts took over, and she faded out on their conversation She tried not to think of Nick, but not surprisingly, she found the effort fruitless. Every now and then, she'd look up at the loft, each look bringing her a different emotional reaction. Sometimes a warming of the heart, sometimes a kick to the gut. Other times, still, an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion.

* * *

Coach, Schmidt, and Winston argued as they made their way down the sidewalk towards the steps to the loft. They didn't notice that Nick had absent-mindedly fallen off the pace, silently slipping behind them. As they further specified the details of their wager, they also failed to notice Cece and Jess sitting at the coffee shop next to the loft. And they certainly didn't notice that Nick noticing them, either. Just before turning the corner, Nick felt strangely compelled to look towards the coffee shop where he saw Jess, Cece, Cece's Aussie beau, and another young man he didn't recognize. He looked up just in time to catch Jess smiling at the guy in front of her. It was a smile that didn't last, but that smile's impact wasn't lost on Nick. He wasn't worried about Jess and this other guy. While he was confused and insecure about what had happened between he and Jess, he still had a pretty good feeling that she wasn't any more ready to move on than he was. In fact, the idea was preposterous. But for the briefest of moments, he saw Jess smile. It wasn't even a genuine, 1000 watt Jessica Day smile, but it was something. Something he once took for granted. Something he thought he had at least some hand in bringing to her face with some frequency mere weeks before. He took a deep breath and followed the guys into the loft, surer than ever of what he was about to do.

* * *

Jess closed the door to the loft behind her and dropped her keys on the table by the door. She and Cece had left the coffee shop shortly after the boys had arrived. Buster had meekly looked around before giving Cece an awkward hug as they parted ways, leaving Kip to roll his eyes, and leaving Jess to smile at the boy's sweetness. The girls had split a large tub of popcorn at the theater, Jess taking more than her fair share of the buttery treat. It was all she'd eaten that day. The film was German, and as abstract as she could've hoped. She was quickly lulled to sleep by the soothing blacks and whites from the modest art house screen, and she was pretty sure Cece joined her shortly after. She awoke about two and a half hours later to a coughing usher, indicating it was time to go.

As Jess made her way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, she noticed the loft seemed quiet. Too quiet. She grabbed the water from the fridge and took a sip as she peeked into Coach's open door. Empty. She trudged back towards her room, still unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. She glanced inside her old room to see that Schmidt was out as well. As she stepped into the room that she had shared with Nick, she flipped on the light before making her way to the bed. She sat down, removed her flats, and stared blankly into the closet before her.

She was grateful for her sleep at the theater. It was restful, and she had awoken at least somewhat refreshed. However, she woke to thoughts of Nick. Was this really the right thing to do? Had things really gotten so bad? Was there _really_ nothing to fight for? She took a deep breath and tried to shake the thought from her mind. As she stared into the closet before her, she noticed something, again, was off. It didn't take her long to realize what it was. Winston didn't have a lot of space in his room, so Nick had kept the majority of his clothes the closet he had shared with Jess. At one time they had taken great pains to arrange the closet to work for the both of them, so he might as well make use of the space. Nick would simply bring a few days worth of clothes over to Winston's room at a time, swapping them out every so often with fresh clothes from the closet. But as Jess stared at into their closet, she saw that all of Nick's clothes were gone. Jess stood up, walked over to the closet, and softly ran her fingers over her hanging clothes that remained.

She felt the panic immediately, and was down the hall to Winston's room in seconds. She flung the door open, and looked around frantically, wiping the tears from her eyes as she did so. There was no sign of Nick. His makeshift bed was gone. His flannels, his shoes… gone. No laptop, no phone charger… nothing. Jess sat down on Winston's bed. She always knew this was a possibility, but she had never allowed herself to dwell on it. Her hands fell to her lap as she let the tears fall freely from her eyes. Nick was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**This was going to be a scene longer, but I could see that scene taking on a life of its own. I also haven't watched tonight's episode yet, so I wasn't sure if the folks that are still reading this would be up for something intense. **

Nick reached inside the slightly dusty, auburn wardrobe and hung the last of his clothes inside. He turned away and closed the door behind him. He turned back into the storefront, still cluttered with boxes and furniture from Schmidt's new/old apartment. He had closed it a little too hard, however, and the doors banged together loudly, giving everyone a start.

"Dammit, Nick!" Schmidt cried angrily from behind a stack of brown boxes. "That armoire cost me $1800! 100% Georgia Red Maple. If you're going to be staying here, you're going to have to learn to respect my stuff."

"Why did you buy an $1800 armoire?" Winston asked from the long, grey sofa he and Coach were seated on.

"What do you mean, why? You can see it right?"

"It's pretty," Coach chimed in.

"Finally, a little appreciation for the finer things in life."

"Pretty expensive for a big hunk of red wood," Coach finished.

"Heathens…" Schmidt muttered under his breath as he walked over to Nick.

"Now, Nick, as your new landlord, we need to go over a few ground rules."

"Can't wait," Nick said. He weaved past some of the clutter and reached into a green cooler sitting upon a box. He retrieved a Heisler, twisted the cap, and took a slug.

"Now we've agreed that it was getting a little crowded in the loft now that you and Jess are no longer sharing a boudoir."

"Just say 'bed', Schmidt," Coach cracked.

"But as long as you're living under my roof, you'll abide by my rules."

"I don't regret this at all," Nick said, taking another sip of beer.

"Rule #1: No open flames. We've all seen how that ends."

"Fair enough," Nick nodded.

"Rule #2: Hygiene. Now, there is no shower here, so I assume you plan on hooking up a hose out back and just delousing that way."

"There's a shower at the bar, Schmidt. Move along."

"That's not the point, Nicholas. If you're going to be sleeping on my couch, and sleeping on my cashmere Ralph Lauren throws, you're going to have to keep that lumberjack stubble of yours in check"

"Wasn't there something we used to do to try and curb this kind of behavior out of him?" Coach asked, turning to Winston.

"If you'd like a recommendation on a line of products…" Schmidt continued.

"Listen, Schmidt," Nick scowled. "I will continue to pay you the rent I would be paying at the loft, and I won't touch any of your stuff that I don't have to. If you don't like that, there are motels that go as low as thirty bucks a night, and I'll be more than happy to hang my hat in one of those… establishments… for a while."

"Why so testy?" Schmidt asked, backing off. "We were just talking bid-ness."

"Don't call it…." Nick said, stopping himself. He took another drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at Winston as he tried to calm himself. Winston, for his part, gave him a knowing look. A look of doubt, understanding, and just about everything else Nick needed to see in that moment.

"Hey, look at the time," Winston said standing up. "Gotta get back to feed Furguson. Yeah, if he doesn't eat before 10 pm, he'll be restless and gassy all night."

Coach, Schmidt, and Nick stood in silence for a moment, each hoping the other would break the awkward silence. They exchanged glances while Winston looked to the floor anxiously.

"So, Nick," Schmidt finally said. "There is a mini fridge in here somewhere. A microwave, too. Since all your food comes from the frozen food section, you should be all set."

"Gotcha," Nick said, shepherding everyone towards the door.

"Now the security system is set to automatically kick on between 10 pm and 6 am. Like, serious panic room style lock down. The override code is 6-3-7-4-9. You got it?"

"6-3-7-4-9, got it."

"You don't want to write that down our anything? It's the only way to get that door to open when the alarm is set."

"6-3-7-4-9, got it."

"Suit yourself," Schmidt said as he reached the door. "Don't call me when you get locked out after a long night at work."

"You got it, Schmidt. You're the last person I'll call," Nick said, slapping him on the back as he walked out the door.

"See you later, Nick," Coach said following Schmidt. "Don't be a stranger."

"Yeah, don't be a stranger," Winston said, pausing before stepping outside. "You know it's not too late to change your mind?"

Nick nodded and looked at Winston. "I think I need this," he finally said. "I mean, I'm 33 years old, Winston. I've never lived alone. That's not normal. Besides, I needed to get out of that loft. It was just too…" he trailed off, unable to find the words.

"And what do you want me to tell Jess?"

"I think Jess will understand."

"Oh, I know she'll understand. But what do you want me to tell her?"

"Tell her the truth," Nick said after some thought. "Tell her I needed… tell her I don't know what I needed, but this seemed like a good idea. For both of us."

Winston gave Nick one last, pleading look before nodding his head and turning to leave. As the door shut, Nick threw the bolt and watched his friends get into Winston's SUV. He turned back into the room, and surveyed the mess before him.

"Home sweet home."

* * *

Jess sat on the sofa, tapping her finger anxiously on her bunny eared iPhone. She pushed her glasses up her nose and lifted the phone to her ear. She waited the obligatory 4 rings before, for the umpteenth time, Cece's voicemail picked up. Jess hung up the phone and dropped in on the coffee table with a thud. She knew Cece had made late dinner plans with Buster, but she was still hoping to hear from her before the night was over. She reached down to pick up a mug of tea that was sitting on the table. As she pulled the mug to her lips, she noticed with dismay that she was shaking. She put the tea back on the table and held her hand out in front of her face and watched until the shaking subsided. As she reached back down to pick up the mug, she felt something thump down beside her on the couch. She instinctively turned to discover Furguson looking up at her expectantly.

"Oh, hey," Jess muttered.

Furguson blinked.

"I, uh, I don't have any treats for you."

Furguson blinked some more before slowly sitting down. He lifted his head yet again and looked at Jess. She bit her lip and looked around the empty apartment.

"You know," she said, looking back at the cat. "I would have thought the two of us would've been good friends by now. But we almost never hang out."

Furguson blinked slowly at Jess and began to purr.

"You know, you're right. No time like the present," Jess said reaching out and softly rubbing the back of the cat's neck. Furguson raised his head to meet her hand as his purring grew louder. She pet him for a while before finally speaking again.

"What is going on with me and Nick? What am I doing? Why is this so hard?"

Furguson answered by ramming his face into her hand.

"I miss my friend? What the hell was that? We haven't been 'friends' in almost a year."

Jess stopped petting Furguson and reached for her tea again. This time she made it to her lips without issue. She sat the mug back on the table and exhaled, letting her hands fall into her lap.

"But then… why did we feel such pressure? I mean, I've never felt that kind of pressure before. Not with Russell, not with Sam. Not even…"

Furguson interrupted her by sticking his head in her lap and forcing his face into her hands.

"I know, I know. It's because we have so much to lose. We have so…" Her eyes glassed over and as the realization hit her, she found herself still and not breathing. "We… we _had_ so much to lose," she said finally.

Furguson moved into her lap and looked up at her.

"He's gone," she said, looking down at the cat. "Is there anything even to lose anymore?"

Furguson leapt from her lap as the loft door simultaneously swung open. Coach and Schmidt entered the loft, followed by Winston who shut the door behind them.

"Okay, Coach. Let's call your little 'freebie' date with Michelle, your 'free pass'. Pun most assuredly intended. When my 'free pass' comes, however, you can bet I'm going all out. Dinner, champagne… maybe even rent a limo."

"Knock yourself out, man," Coach said as he trudged off to his room. "I'll see you guys later."

"Night, Coach," Winston called. He slowly entered the living room towards Jess, who stood up and began clearing her dishes from the coffee table. "Hey, Jess, I…"

"Guess you heard the news?" Schmidt called from the kitchen. "Looks like we can all take longer showers, now. One less person using up the hot water."

"Yeah, I…" Jess started.

"Place was getting to be a bit of madhouse," Schmidt continued, pulling a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Nick said he'd be by later to get some of the stuff out of your room. Though I don't know where he's got room to put anything."

"Where…" Jess began again.

"But don't worry. He's still paying his share of the rent," Schmidt said, crossing the living room and sitting down on the couch. "So not much really has to change. Just a shorter line to the bathroom and a little less clutter."

"Sure. Makes sense. I just gotta…" she said before stopping and heading quickly off to her room, taking her dishes with her. Winston's eyes followed her until he heard the door shut and he looked back at Schmidt incredulously.

"What?" Schmidt asked.

Winston shook his head and followed Jess to her room. He gave a few soft knocks before he heard her stirring on the other side of the door.

"What is it," she said.

"Jess, open up."

"What is it Winston?"

"It'll just take a second."

After a few moment, Winston heard Jess stand up from the bed and move towards him. She cracked the door open and looked up at Winston. He wasn't at all surprised to see such sadness behind her blue eyes. He thought for a second about what he was about to do. If it was his place. If it was really going to make a difference.

"What?" Jess croaked sadly, making Winston's mind up for him.

"2775 Hermann Drive. That's the storefront where Nick's at. You know, if you two ever want to work on getting your story straight for the rest of them."

"Winston, what are…"

"Save it Jess," Winston said firmly. "If this is eating you up half as much as…"

Jess' eyes flashed a bit before Winston finished talking. He wondered if he had given her too much hope. If he had too much faith in his two idiot roommates to actually figure this thing out.

"2775 Hermann Drive. That's the address. Do with it what you want," he said as he turned and walked down the hall to his room.

Jess briefly closed the door gently around her head as she thought it over. She didn't have to do anything with that information, she told herself. But what harm could come of knowing it? She stepped back, took a deep breath, and shut the door.

**I guess I haven't said it a ton lately, but as always, I do appreciate everyone who reads. Especially since the number of those who feel up to reading and writing these days seems to be dwindling. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Thanks for sticking with it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I kind of feel bad now. I see all these happy stories and comments on how folks really want to read fluffy, uplifting stuff right now. Be warned, this isn't really that. Not this chapter, anyway.**

Less than two hours after Winston shared Nick's new address, Jess slipped out of the loft and found herself driving unfamiliar roads. She slowed the car and peered through the driver side window as the odd numbers on that side of the street grew smaller as they approached 2775. After being stuck with the storefront, Schmidt had lamented that the neighborhood was unsafe and undesirable, but in later conversations with Abby, Jess had learned all that meant was that there was inadequate foot traffic and poor Wi-Fi reception. She noticed some minor graffiti here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary for Los Angeles. It was just before midnight as she slowed the car to a stop, arriving at her destination. She threw the car into park and let it idle, observing the scene outside her window.

The tiny strip of stores was three units long. A small, family owned hardware store inhabited the corner lot to the left, a local dry cleaning chain to the right. And in the middle, under a straight blue awning, illuminated brightly from the inside, was Nick's new home. Jess squinted to make out the mess beyond the window. There were boxes piled atop boxes, chairs upon chairs, and, for some reason, a baby grand piano. As Jess questioned Schmidt's possible need for a piano, she saw something moving toward the back of the room. What at first appeared to be a box magically floating left to right across the room was revealed to be Nick, wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, carrying the box to a new spot. She caught her breath, and instinctively crouched down in the car. She watched him for a few moments, moving various boxes and riff raff around the room to no observable end. After she caught her breath, she thought of how silly the situation was. For one, she had seen Nick only a few hours earlier. For another, the bright yellow flames and scantily clad woman painted on her car made even the faintest hope of remaining inconspicuous unfathomable.

She thought a moment about how she came to be the owner of that car as she straightened up and retrieved her phone from the pocket of her coat. It didn't seem like so long ago, she thought to herself. On the beach in Mexico, living out of the Volvo. She thought of Nick's impulse to stay. To live in Mexico, stealing daiquiris from the hotel forever, perhaps. To not risk what they had by returning to the loft. For an instant, she allowed herself to wonder if he had been right. She pushed the thought from her mind, unbuckled her seat belt, and looked down at her phone. She brought up Nick's face and before she could change her mind, she called.

As she heard the tones through her phone, she exited the car and approached the store with uncertainty. Through the window she saw Nick frown and reach into his pocket to retrieve his own phone. He closed his eyes and hung his head as he undoubtedly identified the caller. Jess' heart sank and she nearly stopped in the middle of the street as the phone kept ringing, and Nick kept not answering, instead continuing to stare at the phone in his hand. She swallowed hard and turned back towards her car, unable to watch. She closed her eyes and counted the rings. Three. Four. Five. Just as she was about to hang up, the fifth tone was interrupted by dead air. After a lengthy pause, the silence was broken.

"Jess?" Nick said, surprised.

"Hey," Jess exhaled, spinning back around to face the store. Nick stood exactly where he had before, but he had turned away, his back facing the window.

"Um… hey," Nick continued. "How… how are you?"

"Been kind of a strange day," Jess said, walking towards the door to the store.

"You don't need to tell me," Nick replied.

"No. No I guess I don't," Jess answered, catching her reflection of the store window as she stopped just outside the door. "Hey, Nick, I should probably…"

Nick absently turned towards the window, head lowered, listening intently to Jess. He raised his eyes just as Jess reached the front door. As he caught sight of her, he emitted a high-pitched scream, the phone simultaneously flying free from his hand. Jess' eyes went wide with surprise and concern as Nick clutched his chest and took several deep breaths to collect himself.

"Nick, are you…" she started before realizing he couldn't hear her.

Nick closed his eyes and gave his head a few shakes before reaching down to recover his phone. He picked it up, and put the phone to his ear.

"Jesus, Jess. What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, Nick. I tried to tell you."

"Good grief," Nick said, walking to the door. "I thought you were a ghost or something."

"You… you thought I was a ghost?" Jess said, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, I… forget it. What are you doing here, Jess?" he asked as he arrived at the door. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. Jess instinctively took a step back as she realized that this was the first direct eye contact they had made in weeks. He stood looking at her as he waited for her answer.

"Winston… uh… Winston told me you were here."

"Gotcha," Nick nodded. He looked at here a moment longer before quickly shaking his head in apology. "Here, come in," he said, stepping to the door. He depressed the bar across the door to let Jess in, and scowled when it wouldn't budge. He tried again to no avail.

"What's up?" Jess asked.

"What time is it?" he asked, looking up at her again.

"Dunno exactly. Around midnight?"

"Oh," Nick said, holding up his hand to Jess. "It's the security system. I just need to disarm it."

He walked over to the wall to his left and located the small, white security box. Jess watched as he punched a series of numbers and waited. Nothing. Again, he punched the numbers, and again, nothing. Nick paused a moment and looked up. One more time to the box, one more series of numbers, and yet again, nothing. He sheepishly turned back to Jess and smiled.

"It, uh, seems I've forgotten the code to open the door," he said into the phone. "I thought I would remember it, but… guess I went ahead and 'Miller'd' that up pretty good."

"Nick…"

"What do you need, Jess," Nick said more abruptly than he intended. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I…uh," Jess said, taken aback. "I wanted to talk. I mean, you left today, Nick. That's… kind of a big deal."

"Yeah, well, it… it seemed like a good idea. Like the right thing to do."

"What did?" Jess said, shifting her weight from her left food to her right.

"Moving out. Getting some air. Living alone. Thought I'd give it a shot."

"Just… giving it a shot?"

"Look, Jess…"

"How long?" she interrupted.

"How long?"

"Yeah, how long do you think you're going to be? How long until you come back?" Jess asked, lowering her eyes from Nick's. She needed to hear the answer, but she wasn't sure she wanted to see his face when he gave it.

"I… I was kind of thinking this was going to be a… permanent thing."

"Oh," Jess blinked. "I see."

"Yeah."

Jess found herself nodding as if Nick had adequately explained himself. Perhaps she did so merely because she didn't feel she necessarily deserved and adequate explanation. She looked at her feet for a moment and suddenly regretted not wearing a jacket. She ran her hand up and down the arm of her black sweater to warm herself a bit, and looked back at Nick.

"Hey, Nick?" she said quietly into her phone.

"Yeah, Jess."

"Do you think… we'll ever actually get back to that whole 'being friends' thing again?"

Jess was surprised at her own boldness, and at her phrasing of the question. She wasn't even entirely sure what she wanted his answer to be. Or what her answer would be if given the same question. She looked at Nick as he shut his eyes. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand and grimaced.

"I don't know that I can answer that Jess. I don't…"

"Because I could really use my friend now," Jess said, her voice breaking slightly. "See, I just broke up with this really amazing guy, and I'm kind of shattered, and I could just… really use my friend."

"So," Nick nodded solemnly. "Just broke up with your boyfriend, huh? Well… that sucks," he finished with a dejected laugh.

"Yeah," Jess said, waiting for Nick's eyes to return to hers.

"Well, as a 'friend'? I guess I would say you're better off, Jess. That idiot never deserved you."

"Nick!" Jess said, her lip trembling, wounded by his words.

She instinctively put her hand to the handle of the store door to open it. To go to him. To reassure him. After realizing there was no point in trying the door, Jess slowly lifted her hand and brought it to the back of her neck. Nick was quiet, staring at nothing in particular on the ground. He slowly moved his hand from his forehead and carefully pushed it through his hair, tugging at small bunches as he did so.

"Look, Jess," Nick said, finally looking her in the eye. "I should probably apologize for something."

"Apologize for what, Nick?" Jess said, anxiety building inside her.

"Apologize for not being honest."

"What do you…"

"You see, I don't miss my friend. I never did. I don't miss my friend because... I can't. You see, to me… you never were just 'my friend', Jess."

An audible gasp escaped Jess. This time it was her that broke eye contact as she ran the heel of her hand across her cheeks.

"Nick…" she finally managed.

"I meant what I said before, Jess. 'The moment you walked through the door'. And I know it wasn't that way for you. I guess it came way, way later…"

"You… you 'guess'? " Jess offered defensively.

"Doesn't matter. Point is, you were never 'just' my friend, Jess. And I'm just not sure you ever can be. And for that, I'm sorry."

Jess looked back at Nick, noting for the first time the moisture that was building up at the corners of his eyes. Despite the tears, his gaze didn't soften.

"So… what do we do now?" Jess asked softly.

"I don't know.'

"Am I supposed to just walk away?"

"That's kind of what you've already done, right?"

"That's not fair, Nick!"

"What's fair got to do with it?"

Jess didn't have an answer.

"Look, Jess, all I know is that this: I can't see you every day. Or even most days. It's too hard. It's too much to ask."

"Nick, can't…"

"I know that makes me weak, and it makes me a bad friend, and I love you so much that I should be able to look past everything, but…"

Nick paused, taking a moment to collect himself. He lowered his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing.

"What happens when you move on, Jess?"

"Nick, I'm not even…"

"Thinking about that? Maybe not now. Hell, maybe not for a long time, but Jess, it will happen. And then what? How am I supposed to watch that?"

"Do you think it would be easy for me to watch you move on? That would be…"

"Yeah, but I don't see me moving on, Jess," Nick said, finally looking back at her.

"And you think I do?"

"I have no idea what you think. I hardly even know what I think anymore. I just know you keep saying we have nothing in common. And I guess that's important."

"You don't think…"

"I don't know what I think, Jess. I just know that this is over, and I can't imagine anything feeling more wrong than that."

The both went silent as they tried to absorb what was happening. Jess tried to hold back the tears, something she'd found herself doing far, far too often of late. And she was losing the battle.

"Look, Jess. Right now, I just need to breathe. You too. Some time... to breathe. And if this ever stops feeling so wrong, if things ever start to feel anywhere near right again, then maybe it will mean that you were… that you are right. That we… weren't what I thought we were."

"So this is all my fault, now?" Jess said, tears finally escaping.

"That's not…"

Nick looked up at Jess, and she could see the regret in his eyes. What the regret was for, she couldn't tell. Was it simply because she was crying? Was it for the direction the conversation had turned? Or was it for… everything? Was it for everything going back to her walking through his door in the first place?

"Look, Jess. It's late," he said, again rubbing his head. "It's been a long day, and it's late. We're worked up, let's stop this before we say something we regret."

"Before?" Jess scoffed.

"Well, before something we can't take back."

Jess nodded, not exactly certain they hadn't already gotten to that point. She blinked away the tears from her eyes and allowed them to focus on a stack of boxes just past Nick in the store. After, boxes became clearer and her eyes dried out some, she again raised her eyes to Nick.

"What's the next step?" Jess asked.

"You go home," Nick said, after a pause. "We wait. We breathe. We find out if you were right."

"Find out if I was right, huh?" Jess asked bitterly. "If I was right?"

"Yes," Nick answered, his wet stare finally softening. "Goodnight Jess," he said, hanging up the phone and letting his arm drop to his side.

Jess inhaled, feeling her own eyes turn to saucers as she looked sorrowfully at Nick. She hung up her phone and slipped it into her pocket. She pressed her lips together hard, and gave Nick a brisk nod before turning back to her car. She felt his eyes following her until she reached her door, making certain she got there safely.

"Find out if I was right?" Jess said sadly to herself as she reached for the car door. "What the hell do I know?"

**Thank you so much for taking a few minutes to read this. Sincerely hope you enjoyed it. **


	6. Chapter 6

Nick watched the garish car pull away, his eyes following it's decaled flames down the street until it disappeared from the view allowed by the door in front of him. He rested his head on the glass for a moment before turning back into the mess that was his new home. He wondered if he had been too hard on Jess. Too outright accusatory. It wasn't her fault, after all. Or, it wasn't all her fault anyway. He had played his part.

Nick realized then that he hadn't really eaten that day apart from a mustard-less soft pretzel that Winston had forced on him. He thought about running out to grab some late night take out, or maybe going to track down some fast food, but then remembered the issue of the security system. He should've just written down the number when Schmidt given it to him. Of course, when given the opportunity to do the smart thing, Nick had chosen the lazier option. Some things will never change, he thought, rubbing his head. Worse yet, he knew how unbearable his former roommate would be when he did have to get the code from him again. Luckily, Nick only had afternoon shifts at the bar over the next few days, so it was something he could afford to put off doing for at least a little while.

Nick glanced at the security box on the wall and shook his head. He honestly didn't know whether forgetting the code was a good thing or a bad thing. Had Jess been able to enter the store, the conversation surely would've gone differently. The first look of distress that came from under those bangs and he would've surely melted. He would've gone to comfort her, and he wouldn't have said half of what he had. Things that, better or worse, needed to be said. Things that were honest. And that's part of how they got here, right? Not being honest with each other?

Something about that thought struck Nick hard. Was he really being completely honest with Jess now? For that matter, was he even being honest with himself?

Nick shook the thought from his mind. He'd done enough damage today. He set about the task of finding some food for the evening, and quickly realized his options were scant. After searching the half-dozen boxes he had hastily packed in preparation of the move, all he came up with was a half-eaten can of Pringle's, and a rather crushed package of off-brand Ramen.

"Hope this doesn't offend your delicate palate, good sir," he said out loud to himself.

He then grabbed a box marked 'DISHES' in Schmidt's handwriting, and retrieved a bowl. He opened the package of ramen and dumped it in the bowl before making his way to the bathroom in the back of the store. He emerged moments later having filled the bowl with water, set it down on Schmidt's coffee table, and then went about locating the microwave. He found it under a pile of the softest blankets he'd ever touched, stopping briefly to wonder how much money Schmidt had dumped into simple 'covers'. The likely answer being, of course, too much.

He set the microwave up on the short counter on the back wall of the store. He plugged it in, collected his bowl of ramen from the coffee table, and went to set it inside the microwave. He paused a moment when he noticed something inside. He reached in and pulled out a small booklet, still wrapped in plastic. It seemed Schmidt had yet to break in the appliance, which came as no shock to Nick. Schmidt abhorred all frozen or dried foods, shunning the loft microwave for the better part of a decade. "I prefer my food not be radioactive," he used to say. Nick frowned as he flipped the little booklet over and looked at the cover. 'Healthy Microwave Recipes', it read. Seemed a bit of a paradox, but Nick shrugged and made a note to take a look at it later as he placed his dinner in the microwave and set the timer.

He wandered over to the long, black couch and sat down. He then reached into a box marked 'BOOKS' that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him and removed two handfuls of paperbacks. Nick wasn't much of a reader, but having been warned of the store front's Wi-Fi situation (and knowing he was without a television) he was going to have to find other sources of entertainment. He flipped quickly through the books, most titles and authors unknown to him. Jess had bought him the majority of the books at the closing of a local bookstore a few months back. She never said it explicitly, but Nick assumed her goal was to subconsciously spur him into writing again. He never saw any ulterior motive in the act. Rather, he assumed she had seen the feeling of satisfaction he had felt upon finishing his previous 'novel', and was merely hoping to see him feel that satisfaction again.

As he leafed through the paperbacks, noting the stickers upon each that told him not a book in the bunch had put Jess out more than a quarter, he came across a book of short stories that stuck out to him. The collection was titled 'What We Talk About When We Talk About Love' by Raymond Carver. He knew the name, from where he didn't know, but it was the title is what drew him in anyway. He dropped the other books back in the box, opened to the first story in the collection, and leaned back.

Nick started the first story, about a man selling his belongings on his front lawn, and found himself taken with the simplicity and intimacy of the tale. The language of the story was plain, direct. Anything but flowery. Something he greatly appreciated in the moment. He ignored the microwave timer when it went off, instead going on to read further. After the second story, he took a break, resting the book on his chest and rubbing his eyes. He had meant the break to be brief, but in those moments, he found himself thinking of Jess. Not about their breakup, and not about the uncertain future that awaited them. He just found himself thinking about Jess, and about simpler times. He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Jess awoke the next morning to burning contacts and a face full of sunlight. She groaned, turned to her left, and instinctively reached for Nick. She hadn't done that in some time. Not once in the weeks since they ended things, in fact. Somehow, even in a sleeping state, she'd always been keenly aware that Nick would not be there. But last night had been different. She had gotten home and gone straight to bed. No changing of contacts, no brushing of teeth, no closing of blinds. And that morning, she had awoken from a dream that she had no memory of, but a dream that was clearly a happy one. As she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she was left with the kind of sadness one is left with when the dream is over, and only the real world awaits. She pushed herself up from the bed, still wearing the same jeans and sweater from the day before, and fished her slippers from under the bed. She grabbed her glasses and phone from the nightstand and made her way to the door. Pulling the phone close to her dry eyes, she noticed that she had a missed call from Cece, and realized that the time was already nearly 11:00 in the morning. She cracked the door, saw that the loft was quiet, and made her way to the bathroom.

After texting Cece, brushing her teeth, and exchanging her contacts for glasses, Jess took a moment to observe herself in the mirror. Her hair was unsurprisingly unruly, but a few weeks with minimal makeup had left her skin looking quite fresh. However, she was shocked at how thin she appeared. She ran her fingers over her face to feel how prominent her cheeks had become. She had started to inspect the line of her jaw when Winston burst into the room excitedly.

"Hey Jess," he said, moving past her. He paused quickly in front of the mirror as he adjusted the collar of his bright blue polo shirt. He then grabbed a bottle of cologne from the shelf below the mirror.

"Hey Winston," she replied quietly.

Winston stepped to the middle of the bathroom as Jess watched on with curiosity. Winston sprayed the cologne straight up in the air before spreading his arms wide and stepping through the mist. He again sprayed into the air, and then slowly backed his way through the cologne as it fell.

"Think that's enough?" he asked Jess as he moved to the sink and replaced the cologne. He took a bottle of lotion from the shelf and squirted it into his hands.

"What's the…" Jess started. She was interrupted by Schmidt as he burst into the bathroom.

"Batter up, eh Winston?" he said smugly as he folded his arms and stared at his roommate. "Don't choke, now."

"Don't you worry about me, Schmidt," Winston said, smoothing out his eyebrows.

"Oh," Jess said exhaling. "It's your date with the hot girl down the hall."

"Yeah," Winston said smiling. "Got the whole afternoon planned."

"Oh, is that so?" Schmidt asked. He stepped into the room and started straightening the cuffs of his checkered button down. "What… uh… what you got going on?"

"Not that it's any of your concern, but I think a got a nice little day in store. Jess, tell me what you think about this."

He looked at Jess, who hadn't been paying attention. At the sound of her name, her eyes flashed at Winston, though, and she smiled and nodded at him to continue.

"Well," Winston started, giving Jess a concerned look. "Michelle had some errands to run, so I'm going down to meet her at Nick's bar in a few minutes."

"Classy. Great way to start the day," Schmidt, said, getting met with a hard slap to the shoulder from Jess.

"Zip it," she said, turning back to Winston. "Continue."

"We're just meeting there," he said, glaring at Schmidt. "And then we're going to run over to Pink's and grab a quick lunch."

"Pink's?" Schmidt laughed. "You're taking Michelle to get… hot dogs? Why go to Pink's? Why not save a few bucks and take her to the greasy cart down the street?"

"Shut up, Schmidt," Jess said harshly. Schmidt recoiled momentarily before he sheepishly shoved his hands in his pockets. "A hot dog stand is a perfectly fine spot for a first date," she finished. She took a breath as she tried not to think of her own misunderstanding involving a hot dog cart and a first date. She shook her head and focused on Winston.

"Yeah, well," he continued. "Then we're going to go see a double feature down at the Athena. Yeah, they have a Hepburn-Tracy thing going on, so…"

"That sounds nice, Winston," Jess said, forcing another smile. "You guys will have fun."

Winston and Jess turned to Schmidt, waiting on a snarky comment. Instead he smiled, nodded, and turned to leave.

"Best of luck, Winston," he said as exited the bathroom.

Winston and Jess shared a surprised look before shrugging it off.

"Well. Have fun on your date," Jess said as she turned to head back to her room.

"Want me to say hi to Nick for you?" Winston called after her, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"I don't… I don't think that's necessary," she said quietly without turning back to Winston. "I think we said all we need to say last night."

With that she left the room and shuffled down the hall, turning right into her room and shutting the door behind her. Winston stepped into the hallway and looked after her, sighing and shaking his head.

"Yeah, I doubt that," he said to the empty hall.

In her room, Jess went into her dresser drawer and looked for her portable iPhone speaker. As she moved some stuff around in the drawer to find it, she came across a green wristband that she pretended, even to herself, not to see. She retrieved the speaker and slammed the drawer shut before walking over to Nick's writing desk to set up. As she went to connect the speaker, her iPhone pinged, alerting her to a text from Cece: "At work, off at 5, I'll stop by then." Jess frowned at her phone and went back to the business at hand. She scrolled through her music and struggled to decide on what to listen to. She hadn't set up her turntable in the new room, and all of her vinyl had been packed away, so her go-to Joni Mitchell was out of the question. She didn't want to hear her, anyway. More than anything she just wanted something she could ignore.

**Thanks again for reading this. I know this chapter didn't really seem to go anywhere, but I'm trying to set some things up for later. That's the plan, anyway. Fingers crossed.**


	7. Chapter 7

Nick ran a towel over the bar before flipping it over his green-flannel clad shoulder and sighing. It was hardly noon, not a customer in the bar, and he already knew it was going to be a long day. He glanced over at Cece at the far end of the bar. She was unstacking and restacking glasses, just trying to find something to do to keep busy. Every now and then she'd catch something she didn't like. A spot or some other flaw on a glass, and she would rub it on the waist of her burgundy tank top until the offending blemish was gone. Nick thought about suggesting a towel for the deed, but kept his mouth shut. Cece had been giving him space, not asking questions. He appreciated that kind of understanding from her, but he also knew that Cece was Jess' best friend. That she had her back like no other. That she was a dam that, one day, would be ready to burst with thoughts and opinions on Nick and Jess and their situation. And Nick wasn't ready for it to be that day.

He instead reached under the bar and grabbed the book of short stories he had started the night before. He was now a half a dozen or so stories into the collection, and he was compelled to keep going. The tales were of average people doing average things, but one recurring theme seemed to be adultery. The characters in these stories came at it from all angles, and they made it seem alternately complicated and commonplace. Nick couldn't relate a lick. It simply wasn't in his makeup. But the book made him think. He had wondered if something as conclusive as cheating wouldn't have somehow made this whole situation with Jess easier. To have something definitive, something final to blame. A party to assign full responsibility to, even if it were himself. He shook his head at the thought, and produced a tumbler from beneath the bar, setting it on top. He then reached behind him and grabbed a bottle of cheap bourbon and poured himself a neat one. It was going to be a slow afternoon, but he decided at that moment it would be his only drink of the shift.

Cheating on Jess, of course, was an outright impossibility. And he felt pretty certain the same was true for her. Still, that didn't help him make heads or tails of why he participated in the end of the relationship with such ease, or what, if anything, could or should be done about it. Taking a sip of his drink, he looked down at Cece, and felt a pang of guilt. She'd probably be out for another double round of junk-punching had she known Nick actually entertained the idea that cheating might have been preferable to whatever it was he and Jess were going through. Only this time he might've deserved it.

He set his drink down and flipped to the page marked in his book. He leaned his elbows on the bar and read, undisturbed, for a few pages. He got so involved in what should've been a mundane story about a father and son meeting for a drink in an airport that he didn't notice the young woman that had approached him from the other side of the bar. But Cece did, arching her eyebrows, first at the attractive woman, and then and Nick's complete ambivalence to her. The young woman coughed, finally dragging Nick's attention from his book.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said, turning to the woman.

"It's okay," she said with a smile. "I get caught up in Carver myself sometimes."

"You know this guy?"

"I read a bunch of his stuff in college. Took a creative writing course. I love all the minimalists."

"Minimalist… that makes sense."

"I'm Michelle," the girl said with a smile.

"Well, Michelle, I'm Nick. What can I get you?"

"Well," she said, flashing her light blue eyes, slightly embarrassed. "It's kind of early, so I was thinking maybe… a virgin screwdriver?"

"OJ and Seven up, coming right… up?" Nick said shaking his head.

Cece watched on as the girl laughed at Nick's unintentional joke. The girl giggled, twirled her hair, and seemed only slightly perplexed by the fact that Nick didn't seem to be picking up on her obvious flirtation. And Cece felt pretty certain that this girl didn't get ignored very often. As Nick went about fixing the drink, the girl slipped off her black jacket to reveal a clingy white tank top. One she filled out so well that even Cece felt herself instinctively straightening her own posture.

"So what brings you to a bar at noon if you aren't planning on drinking," Nick asked, setting the drink in front of Michelle.

"Oh, I'm meeting some guy," she said. "Going to go grab lunch, see a movie."

"Gotcha," Nick said, returning to his book. "No charge on the, uh, 'screwdriver'"

"Well, thank you," Michelle said with a smile. She slipped onto the stool across from Nick, being sure to lean forward a little longer than necessary. She looked mystified when Nick didn't so much as steal a glance. "You know, you look familiar," she added.

"Oh" Nick said looking up from his book. "Maybe you've seen me here before?"

"No, no this is my first time here. I was out at the store, and the guy I've got the date with, Winston, said we should meet here."

"Oh, I see," Nick said, nodding. "You're the girl from down the hall? The one my three idiot roommates are falling all over themselves to impress."

"You live with those guys?"

"Yeah. I mean… well, I did," Nick corrected himself. "Until very, very recently."

"Huh. I must've seen you around the building or something. Though I'd like to think I've have remembered that," she said, taking the straw to her drink slowly in her mouth.

"If you say so," Nick shrugged. "So, tell me Michelle. Which of the three stooges is closest to winning your heart."

"Ha!" she genuinely laughed. "Well, let's see. First they offer to help me and my roommate move. But they basically end up destroying half of our stuff. So, there's a strike against all three of them."

"Sounds fair."

"And then this Coach guy takes me to where he works, and he treats me like a client. That was the date. Just him shouting orders and me busting my ass."

"And that was no good?"

"I mean, it was a nice work out, and I honestly would recommend him as a trainer, but as a date? Not so much."

"Seems reasonable."

"And then this Schmidt guy… it is Schmidt, right?"

"Yup. Hard to forget."

"He's been leaving things at my doorstep all week. Chocolates, flowers, stuffed animals. All with these little cards that tell me to prepare for the 'greatest night of my life' when we do finally go out tomorrow."

"Sounds like Schmidt."

"And, I dunno. Winston seems nice and all. I guess he'd be in the lead if I had to pick."

"Oh yeah?" Nick said with a grin.

"Yeah. I mean, he seemed a little more genuine when he helped us move. He actually moved quite a bit, and he managed not to break anything."

"Winston's a good guy. I'm sure you guys will have fun."

"Maybe," Michelle said, dropping her eyes for the moment. "So… where were you the day we moved in. Why aren't you in on this whole thing? Or am I just not your type?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Michelle. Any point in his life before Jessica Day, and he would've been fighting those idiots tooth and nail to get a shot a girl like this. But looking at her now. Long, dark hair, more than gorgeous figure, and piercing blue eyes, he could only think one thing. She's no Jess. And she never would be.

"I… uh… I have a girlfriend," Nick said instinctively.

"Oh," Michelle said, relief washing over her. "Is that why you moved out, to live with your girlfriend?"

"Not exactly," Nick said. "It's… complicated. She actually still lives in the loft with the other guys."

"Hmm," Michelle said thinking for a moment. "Oh! The pretty brunette with the bangs? That's your girlfriend?"

"Well," Nick said, taking a deep breath. Michelle was pleasant enough, and she meant no ill will, but he was starting to tire of the conversation. "Yes and no. It's… it's complicated."

"Say no more," she said, realizing she was starting to pry. "Say no more."

"Thanks," Nick said apologetically.

Michelle smiled and gave her drink a stir. She checked her watch and then looked to the door of the bar.

"So… is your friend Winston the punctual type?"

"Give or take," Nick replied. "What's old Winnie got in store for you two today?"

"Winnie?" Michelle laughed. "Well, Winnie is going to take me to get Pinks. I'm new to the area, and I've never been."

"Can't go wrong," Nick nodded.

"Then we're going to see a double feature of some old screwball comedies at the art theater over there. I'm actually kind of looking forward to a nice, simple afternoon."

"Winston's a good egg. Between you me and the bar," Nick said, giving the wood a knock with his fist. "I'm pulling for him here."

"That a fact?" Michelle said with a smile.

"Yeah. Just don't tell him I said that. You can tell Coach and Schmidt, but don't tell Winston. Don't want it to go to his head."

"Well, who would want that?"

"And speak of the devil," Nick said, his eyes moving to the door as Winston entered the bar. He'd slipped on a black leather jacket over his blue polo, and his face was captivated when he laid his eyes on Michelle.

"Well, hello there," Winston said smiling, making his way over to her. "You look…. Outstanding."

"Ah, well thank you. I was just getting to know your roommate here."

"Former roommate," Nick interjected.

"Former roommate, right," Michelle said with a smile.

"I hope Nick didn't talk your ear off."

"In what world would I talk anybody's ear off?" Nick asked scowling.

"Good point," Winston said, shrugging. "You about ready, Michelle. Movie starts in about an hour, so…"

"Yep, all set" Michelle said, standing up. She grabbed her jacket and turned to Nick with a smile. "Very nice to meet you Nick. You can tell your associate over there she can stand down now."

Nick furrowed his brow and looked over to Cece, who had stopped with her glass cleaning and stood staring at them, arms folded. He looked back towards Winston and Michelle as they proceeded to leave the bar. Winston held the door open as Michelle exited. He then turned to Nick, animatedly mouthed the words 'Oh My God', and disappeared through the door behind her. Nick smiled and turned back to find Cece inches away.

"So. She was hot," Cece smirked.

"Oh, was she?" Nick offered, trying to return to his book.

"What? Are you going to act like you didn't notice?"

"Oh, I noticed, Cece," he said, giving up. He returned his book to its spot beneath the bar.

"So… not interested? A body like that?"

"Cece, can we…"

"I mean, I'm a model. I see hot women all the time, but even I turned my head a bit at this one."

"That a fact?" Nick muttered, trying to move past her.

"And yet you barely even raise an eyebrow." Cece said, standing back to let Nick through. "You hardly even notice."

"Like I said, I noticed, Cece," Nick said, pausing before he moved past. "I just don't really care."

Cece frowned as Nick moved down the bar, and the turned the corner to the other side. She heard him walk off in the direction of the stockroom, footsteps fading until they disappeared, followed soon by the sound of a closing door. She nodded to herself as very specific thoughts started to enter her mind. Thoughts she'd ignored for weeks now. Thoughts that were probably none of her business. But the thoughts were breaking through, now, and they caused Cece to come to a conclusion: She had kept quiet long enough.

**Thanks for reading, guys. Seriously, very cool, and I think I speak for all of us that write that it is most appreciated. **


	8. Chapter 8

Cece stepped into the elevator, turned, and pressed the button for the 4th floor. As the doors closed in front of her, she leaned against the back wall and rested her eyes. She had tried to get some answers out of Nick, but it proved a tougher task than she had anticipated. Every attempt she had made to coyly broach the subject was met either by silence, or by Nick disappearing to the stockroom for some dubious reason. It was no matter, she thought as the elevator pinged and the doors opened to the 4th floor. She knew Jess, and she knew how to get her attention without coming off as too obvious. She stepped out of the elevator and walked towards 4D. She glanced at her watch, noting it was just past 4pm as she turned the knob and stepped into the loft. Entering the room, she noticed some baseball movie playing on the fractured flat screen in the living room. Looking to her right, she went to join Schmidt and Coach in the kitchen area where they were in the midst of some enthusiastic discussion.

"Now, the stirring is important," Schmidt said as he moved a spatula in a circular motion over a small skillet on the stove. "Keep things moving and you'll get the desired fluffiness. Don't keep things moving, and you'll get trash."

"What's going on?" Cece asked as she approached the kitchen island.

"I'm teaching Coach here how to make the perfect scrambled eggs," Schmidt smiled, wiping his hand quickly over the black apron that covered his light blue button up. "Little bit of milk, little bit of smoked gouda, and some of those chives we chopped earlier."

"Fascinating stuff, Schmidt," Coach said, rolling his eyes.

"Now this part is key," Schmidt said as he lifted the skillet from the burner, continuously stirring. "You want to heat the eggs so slow…"

"We've been at this for 20 minutes," Coach said softly to Cece as he played with the strings of his burgundy hoodie.

"… that you need to take them away from the heat every so often."

"20 minutes you say?" Cece smiled at Coach. "Sounds about right."

"Coach, pay attention!" Schmidt said. "Why did you ask me to show you how to do this if you're just going to ignore me?"

"I didn't ask you to do any of this Schmidt."

"You most certainly did."

"I literally said, 'I'm going to make some eggs. Do you want some?'"

"And I did not," Schmidt said, slamming the skillet down on the stove. "Not your dry, rubbery little… birdy abortions."

"20 minutes…," Coach said under his breath to Cece.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Schmidt asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"Dude, its' not a riddle."

"I take time out of my busy day to put on a veritable culinary display…"

"20 minutes…," Coach snickered.

"…and this… this is the thanks…"

"Shouldn't you be watching your eggs?" Cece asked.

"Oh! Another party heard from!" Schmidt fumed.

"No, seriously. I can see them solidifying," Cece pointed.

"Son of a…." Schmidt cried, turning off the burner and slamming his fist on the counter.

"Dude, they're just eggs," Coach said, walking over to the stove. "These are fine."

"No, no, no. The texture's all wrong. This? This is garbage."

"Well, I'll eat them. All I wanted were some eggs," Coach said, reaching into the cupboard over the stove for a plate. "And, oh look… eggs."

"You're not actually going to eat those, are you? What are you, a blind, three-legged rodent? "

"Why does it matter how many legs he has?" Cece asked, trying not to laugh.

"Because… because…. He…" Schmidt stammered. Coach and Cece looked on, each enjoying how flustered he was becoming. "I hate you both," he finally said, hastily removing his apron and storming down the hall to his room. Coach and Cece watched on a moment before he went back to plating his eggs and she took a seat at the kitchen island.

"You want any of this?"

"No, I'm good," Cece answered. "So, is Jess in…"

"Aha!" Schmidt yelled, thundering down the hall towards then. "Because, he' already eaten his other leg. That's how hungry you'd have to be to eat these eggs. Boom. Served!"

Coach and Cece stood blinking as Schmidt disappeared back down the hall.

"So… anyway. Where's Jess? She in her room?"

"What are you talking about? She's right there," Coach said, gesturing to the couch.

"Huh?" Cece asked, turning to look.

A small hand rose slowly from behind the couch and gave a slow, half-hearted wave. Cece frowned when she noticed the arm connected to the hand was wearing the same black sweater it had the day before.

"How did I miss that?" Cece said under her breath.

"For someone so small, she really manages to just sink right down into that thing. Literally, it's like she's one with the couch now."

"Goodie," Cece said, turning back to living room. "Hey, Jess. Whatcha watching?"

"I dunno," a low, dry voice replied quietly. "Coach picked it."

"She went through all her normal rom-coms," Coach said, setting a plate of eggs down as he took a seat across the island from Cece. "So I leant her Bull Durham. It's at least a little romantic."

"I see," Cece answered, before calling into the living room. "What's it about, Jess?"

"I dunno," called the voice from behind the couch.

"How long has she been…?" Cece started, turning to Coach.

"All day. Or most of it anyway," Coach said quietly. "Say, I'm starting to suspect that Jess isn't really doing all that great with this whole Nick thing."

"Ya think?" Cece answered dryly. She sat for a moment and thought about her next step carefully. She needed to get Jess' ear. She needed to help her realize that things didn't have to stay the way they were. That there were things that should be considered. But Cece knew that approaching Jess directly about things would be met with resistance. Jess' defenses would be immediately raised, and anything Cece tried to tell her would be discounted. No, Cece had another approach in mind. Something a little more manipulative, and a lot more delicate. But as she cleared her throat to speak, she realized she was running out of options.

"So, Coach," Cece said a little more loudly than was necessary. "How was your date with Michelle?"

"Uh, fine," Coach answered a little surprised. "I mean, as far as first dates go, it was…"

"Yeah, she stopped by the bar today. She was meeting Winston. Guess it was his turn to woo?"

"I guess so. I don't really keep tabs…"

"Yeah, she stopped by looking for Winston, but I think she might've seen something she liked a little better."

"How do you mean?" Coach asked, not terribly interested.

"I mean," Cece said, trying to casually look towards the couch out of the corner of her eye. "She seemed a lot more interested in a certain, sullen bartender."

From behind the couch, Jess' head instantly popped up. She sat quietly, not facing the kitchen even as she clearly listened in.

"Nick?" Coach asked. "That's a little surprising."

Cece kicked Coach under the island, eliciting a small, womanly gasp. "Play… along…" Cece whispered.

"I mean," Coach said, taking a moment to realize what was going on. "You don't say? No, not Nick too, dammit."

"Yeah. He's kind of got this sad, wounded puppy kind of vibe going on these days," Cece said, keeping tabs on Jess, who had risen from the couch and was trying to inconspicuously make her way into the kitchen. "There are definitely girls that like to pounce on that kind of weakened prey."

"Don't I know it," Coach said, pushing his eggs around on his plate.

"She was totally buying into the whole brooding thing," Cece said, as Jess slipped past Coach, opened a cabinet door and started shuffling through random tea cartons. "Hey, Jess. How you feeling?"

"Good. Great," Jess said, nodding quickly. "Just grabbing some tea. You guys want any?"

"Sure, I'll have some," Cece answered. "What you been up to today, babe?"

"Oh," Jess said, stepping over to the stove to start the tea. "Not much. Just watching some movies with Coach here."

"Nice," Cece said, running her eyes past Coach, who was shaking his head. "Anything good?"

"Sure," Jess answered, grabbing some cups from the cupboard. "Hey, don't let me interrupt you guys. Coach, tell us about your date. What's she like?"

"Um, she's cool," Coach said, not looking up. "Kind of young. Really young, actually."

"Oh…" Jess said softly, as she absent-mindedly set the cups on the counter.

"But, man, she is hot. Hot, hot, hot."

"You can say that again," Cece added. "I got a pretty good look, too. She was all leaning over the bar, giggling at everything Nick said, twirling her hair," Cece said, noting the color of Jess' face quickly turning red in anger. She stood over the stove, gripping the counter tightly, pressing her lips together. Hard.

"I just don't see her and Nick having much in common," Coach said.

"Oh, they actually do. He was reading this book today, and she knew all about it. Guess she studied it in college or something. They just chatted and chatted about it until Winston showed up," Cece lied. "Honestly, I think it was just another reason for her to lean over the bar a bit, if you know what I mean."

Cece looked at Jess and saw her eyes flare in absolute rage just before she knocked a box of tea to the floor, spilling the bags everywhere. As Jess crouched down to clean up the mess, Cece allowed herself an internal smirk before she continued.

"I mean, I see why you guys are all about this girl. The long dark hair…"

Jess subconsciously ran her hand over the matted, unwashed mop on the top of her head.

"… those arresting blue eyes…"

Jess raised a finger to wipe away some crust that had formed beneath her glasses at the corners of her eyelid.

"… and that body? Good grief. That girl can fill out a tank top better than me."

Jess slowly stood up, looked down at her two-straight-days-worn, cat hair infused sweater, and frowned.

"I have to be honest here. Part of me just a little surprised that Nick wasn't even the slightest bit interested in her. I mean, wouldn't give her the time of day." Cece finished. She looked at Jess as her eyes slowly lifted to find Cece's. The relief was evident, and the weight all but fell from Jess' body.

"Hmm," Coach said. "Different strokes, right?"

"I suppose," Cece said, looking straight at Jess.

"I… uh… I gotta run to the bathroom real quick. My, uh, something in my eye," Jess said, scurrying off.

Cece watched Jess disappear down the hall, and considered what she'd just done. She felt guilty running Jess through the ringer, even if it was but briefly. But she wanted Jess to think about things. To realize that she was letting her fears get in her way again. That she was finding ways to ruin a good thing.

"So, want to tell me what's going on?" Coach asked.

"Just… trying to solve a problem."

"Girl, you devious," Coach snapped.

"Right… Say, Coach. All that stuff you told me about Malia earlier. About your relationship. Was all that true?"

"I don't really remember what we may have talked about, but if I was telling you, it must've been true."

"Good. Good. Because we might be revisiting that," Cece said, turning to look for Jess.

"Alright. You just let me know how 'blue' you want be to get. Because I can tell you some things, some things. Some things I could tell you," Coach said smiling to himself.

"Knock it off," Cece said as she heard Jess coming down the hall. "Just… follow my lead."

Jess appeared from down the hall, showing something that approached a bounce in her step. She made her way over to the kitchen as she rolled up the sleeves to the freshly adorned green sweater she'd changed into. She offered Cece a small smile as she turned off the stove and started preparing their tea.

"So anyway," Cece started, turning her attention to Coach. "How was it going on a date, Coach? Wasn't this the first one you've had since you and Malia… you know?"

"Well," Coach coughed. "I actually did have a pretty intense make out sesh with a foxy Indian girl."

"I meant 'real date'," Cece scowled. "This was your first 'real date'."

"If you say so."

"Oh, I do. Anyway, what did you guys do on your date?"

"Well, I had her come down to the gym. Gave her a real workout. On the house, if you know what I mean…"

"No, what do you mean?"

"Mostly some toning exercises. Bit of light cardio," Coach said, looking down.

"Mm-hmm." Cece hummed as she looked over at Jess as she set a cup of tea in front of Cece and took a seat next to Coach at the island. "Say, why did you and Malia break up again?"

"Well, Miss Transition, that… is complicated."

"So? Uncomplicate it."

"I guess I don't know, really," Coach said thoughtfully. "I mean, we didn't fight much. It wasn't a money thing. We were… compatible…. in the physical sense. Things were going pretty well. But then… one minute we were in love, the next minute she's dumping me for some taller, balder, jerkier, coppy-er dude."

"That sucks," Cece said, looking at Jess. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that."

"You sure it's not just because you had nothing in common," Jess asked quietly.

"Nah, Malia and I had tons in common. Everything, really."

"How's that?" Cece goaded, noting Jess' intensified interest.

"Well, for starts, we met in college. We were the same age. Same birthday, actually. We both played college ball. We both got degrees in Health and Fitness."

"Yeah, but did you like the same things?"

"Well, we both liked our birthdays, we both like basketball, and we both liked Health and Fitness."

"Coach," Cece warned.

"And we liked action films, we love our family. We liked going to concerts. I dunno. We were a lot alike."

"Too much alike?" Jess asked, not looking up.

"I dunno if I'd say that. I guess at the end there, it didn't matter one way or another. It was nice, it was pleasant, I guess. But… "

"But what?" Cece prodded, already knowing the answer.

"Well. I guess, looking back, there was one thing."

"What?" Jess asked, finally looking up.

"We stopped making each other laugh. I mean, Malia used to have this great, biting, slightly offensive sense of humor. And y'all know I'm a side splitter," Coach said with a smile.

Cece and Jess waited patiently for Coach to finish his story.

"I said, ya'll know I'm a side splitter."

"Yup-yup."

"True story."

"Thanks," Coach said, pursing his lips. "Anyway, yeah. We just… stopped laughing. I didn't think much of it at the time, but… I think about it sometimes now."

Jess offered Coach a quick smile and started to fuss with her tea. Cece looked Coach in the eyes, sending a look of gratitude through her own. Coach nodded back and returned to his eggs.

"I guess breakups are never easy, no matter what," Cece said. "But I have to say, finding out about Schmidt? That was an all-time low for me. There's just no describing the feeling you get when you find out the man in your life has been unfaithful. The lowest of the lows, right Jess?

"Hmm?" Jess said confused. "Nick never cheated on me."

Cece looked carefully into Jess' eyes and waited for it to hit. She gave Jess about 5 seconds before smiling and reminding her.

"I wasn't talking about Nick, Jess. I was talking about Spencer."

"Oh, right." Jess said, surprised. "Yeah, no. That was awful. The worst."

Cece nodded and watched as Jess went back to fumbling with her tea. After a few moments, something crept into Jess' mind that made her start shifting in her seat. She looked past Cece and Coach, thinking. Cece couldn't read what was going on in her mind, but she reasoned that was partly because Jess wasn't entirely sure herself. Jess scrunched up her face and tilted her head to the side before noticing Cece examining her. She instantly straightened up, raising her hand to her eye.

"Ugh. Something in my eye again," she said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

"Take your time," Cece said as her eyes followed Jess until she disappeared down the hall. She turned quickly back to Coach. "I'm sorry, but thank you so much. I just think…"

"It's okay," Coach said. "I see what you're doing, and I'm on board."

"Thanks," Cece smiled.

"So, what you got planned next?"

"I think it's time to bring out the big guns," Cece smiled.

"Girl, you so tricky," Coach said, snapping his head back effeminately.

"Can we not…"

"As you wish," Coach said, returning to his eggs.

**Thanks so much to those who take the time to review and follow. And, as always, thanks for reading at all, that's the important part. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Nice to see a few more stories/updates this week. Oh, and I apologize to the Guest review I accidentally deleted. I was fumbling with my iPhone and I slid the wrong way. Thank you.**


	9. Chapter 9

Nick slipped the key in the deadbolt of his storefront abode, careful not to drop the blue plastic bag looped over the wrist of his right hand. As the bolt clicked over, he pushed the door open with his left elbow and carefully spun through the doorway. As he stepped through, a loud, chiming version of what he recognized as the theme song to the old Alfred Hitchcock TV show blared through the room. It was undoubtedly used in the store's past to alert the former proprietors of incoming customers, but it made Nick wonder what kind of shop used to occupy the storefront. At this point, it was just unneeded noise as far as he was concerned.

He strode through the room, straight to the back counter where he set the plastic bags. He flexed his wrist and fingers before reaching into one of the bags and removing a bunch of asparagus and a head of broccoli. If someone would have told him a month ago that he would willingly be buying such greenery, he'd have laughed. But living on his own had opened him up to new things. And that included getting his daily dose of veggies. He walked the produce to the left end of the counter where the small, white mini fridge sat caddy corner where the counter met the wall. He removed a bottle of water from the fridge, and placed the vegetables inside. Taking a drink of water, he pulled a large, glass bowl that was sitting atop the fridge and brought it down towards the rest of his groceries. Empting the plastic bags, he filled the bowl with apples, oranges, and bananas, before sliding it back down the counter.

Nick sighed as he collected the empty bags. He realized it was probably time to invest in one of those large, reusable canvas bags like Jess always used to use on their trips to the market. Just that day he had received dirty looks from some rather judgmental 'greener than thou' types that frequented the kale stand. Nick hated those types. In fact, he didn't much like any of the 'types' he came across at the market. But it was located along the short walk between the bar and his new home, so the convenience factor couldn't be ignored. And if he were honest with himself, he kept going back for another, simpler reason. Somewhere deep inside, he held out some small hope that one day he might just run into Jess. Shaking his head, he shoved the bags into a drawer in the counter, and turned to face his apartment.

It had been nearly two weeks since he's moved out of the loft. More importantly, it had been nearly two weeks since he'd seen or spoken to Jess. He shook the thought from his head and took another drink before grabbing an apple from the bowl and rinsing it off in the deep, commercial sink in the middle of the counter. He shook the excess water from the piece of fruit, then ran it across the front of his grey hoodie, finishing the job. As he took a bite, he fished his phone from his pocket to check the time. It was nearing 6 pm. Probably about another hour or so before he would start readying his dinner.

Nick took a deep breath as he stepped toward the center of the room. Over time, he had carved something resembling a proper apartment out of Schmidt's belongings. On the far left of the apartment, Nick had neatly arranged and stacked all of the stuff he felt he had no use for. The piano, a pair of black, leather swivel chairs, a red… couchy-type… thing, and several pieces of almost certainly overpriced artwork. At the center of the room was a long, grey couch, bookended by two small, silver end tables. Upon each end table was a short, horizontally shaded lamp, far too chic for Nick's taste.

Nick moved over to the couch and sat down, setting his water on the wooden coffee table in front of him. He looked intently at the water for a moment before sighing, reaching into the drawer of the coffee table, and removing a coaster. He slipped the coaster under the water and then reached under the coffee table to retrieve his laptop, which he opened and sat on the table. He powered up the computer, took another bite of his apple, and leaned back on the couch. As Nick rested his eyes and waited for his computer to wake up, he thought back on the past few weeks.

Too embarrassed to ask Schmidt for the code to the security system, Nick had instead started to work exclusively during the day. The tips weren't as good, but the lack of income was fairly offset by Nick's lack of spending. Even though Jess made more money than Nick, and even though she insisted on keeping their spending as even as possible, he had tried to treat her as often as she would let him. And there is just no way around it: not having a girlfriend was cheaper than having one. But Nick had kept to the day shift for another reason, too. He had, surprisingly, found himself in a bit of a routine. He had, even more surprisingly, found that he liked having a bit of a routine. The lack of blinds in his new home made sleeping in nearly impossible, and the fact that he had to worry about being locked out every night meant he had a built in curfew as well. For the first time in his life, Nick had structure. Not the kind he could easily subvert, either. Sure, he had classes to attend in college, but when he didn't feel like it, he simply didn't go. Even working at the bar, his schedule was so flexible that one could hardly view it as structure. All the other day to day responsibilities in his adult life had been cushioned by the presence of Schmidt, and later, Winston and Jess. If Nick was a little short on rent or a utility, one of his friends was there to get his back. If he forgot to get food on a given day, they were more than willing to share.

For the first time as an adult, Nick was 100% on his own. Responsible for himself. But responsible for only himself. And that was the key. When he was young, he had been forced into the role of 'man of the house', his responsibilities affecting the welfare of others. Others he loved. And as he grew up, he so resented that brand of premature responsibility, that he subconsciously railed against it his whole adult life. But now, Nick was finding a little responsibility was actually satisfying. Something he wanted to do, not something that was merely forced upon him.

Before Nick could examine his thoughts further, that old Alfred Hitchcock song chimed through the room. He looked up to see a surprised looking Winston walking through the door. He looked up at the sound of the music, removed the sunglasses from his face, and shot Nick a questioning look.

"I dunno, man. It must've been a Halloween shop or something," Nick said, standing up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that sort of makes sense." Winston slipped his glasses into the front pocket of his red polo shirt as he looked around the room. "Place is looking pretty good man."

"I know, right?" Nick smiled. "Took hours, but it's starting to look like an actual domicile."

"Domicile?"

"I'm sorry," Nick said, rubbing his head. "I think it's being around all of Schmidt's stuff. I dunno, it's rubbing off on me somehow. It's like osmosis or something."

"That's… horrifying."

"You have no idea. He has so many lamps. What does anyone need with all these lamps?" Nick said, pointing to the corner of the room where he had piled about a dozen lamps of various sized and shapes.

"I have no idea, but it can't be for any reason we'd want to dwell on."

"Good point. You want a beer or something?" Nick said as he stepped to the back of the room and headed towards the fridge.

"I guess I got a few minutes," Winston answered, following.

"Actually, I was probably going to whip up some dinner here in a bit. Interested?" Nick asked, peering into the fridge.

"No, I think I'm…. wait, what?"

"I was about to make some dinner. Nothing fancy, probably just some roasted broccoli and a chicken breast or something.

"I think I'm all set, thanks. Since when do you cook?"

"What do you mean? I've always cooked."

"If it takes less than three minutes and one stir in the microwave, it's not cooking, Nick."

"I dunno," Nick said, shutting the door to the fridge. "I've been driving less to save on gas money, so I've been doing most of my shopping at the farmer's market. And their frozen food section leaves much to be desired."

"You don't say."

"Yeah, but hey. I've lost six pounds in the last 10 days, so I must be doing something right!"

"You lost six pounds?" Winston asked, confused.

"Yeah, turns out swapping pizza rolls for broccoli makes a fella drop the LBs," Nick said folding his arms. "Sorry, looks like I'm actually out of beer. I can grab you a water or something. Or we could run down to the bar if you want."

"Know what? I think I'm good," Winston said, looking around. "What do you cook on?"

"Oh, well at first, I just put everything in the microwave," Nick said, crouching down to open a cabinet below the sink. "Had a book of recipes and everything. But all the food came out all rubbery and flavorless, so I picked up one of these at the goodwill down the street."

With that, Nick set a small, round convection oven on the counter near the refrigerator. He shrugged as he ran his finger over the oven before plugging it into the wall.

"Only cost me $34," he smiled. "All the food kind of comes out tasting kind of the same, but at least I don't feel like I'm eating erasers."

"Bonus."

"Keeps my costs down, gives me something to do."

"Nice," Winston nodded as a small smile crept across his face.

"Sure you don't want to stay for a bite?"

"No, but thanks, man. I actually just stopped by to pick up the rent. Figured you'd rather deal with me than your 'landlord'," Winston said, making air quotes with his fingers. "Besides, I got an early, early day tomorrow. It's my first day of training. Yeah, Coach is going to be getting me up before the crack to get me started. A little pre-training before the real training at the academy starts in a couple weeks."

"That's awesome man. How is Coach?" Nick asked as he moved across the room to one of the end tables by the couch.

"Coach is good, man. The school year just ended, so he's booking more hours at the gym. But he's offered to work with me in the mornings, so…" Winston said, waiting for Nick's inevitable follow up.

"And the others? How, uh, how are they?" Nick said, looking down.

"Hmm. How… are… they." Winston repeated, knowingly. He tapped his finger to his chin as he tried to gauge Nick's anticipation on a scale of 1-10. Deciding a 14 seemed accurate, Winston dropped his hands and looked Nick in the eye.

"'They' are doing okay, I guess. Better than 'They' were doing a few weeks ago, that's for sure. 'They' are getting out more, spending less time in 'Their' room. Not sure what 'They' plan to do all summer, but if you're wildly curious, you could… you know… ask her. I mean, 'They'."

"I'm glad everyone is doing so well," Nick said as he removed his checkbook and a pen from the end table. He bent over and scribbled on the check book quickly before straightening up and carefully tearing the check out. "Here you go," he said somberly.

"But really," Winston said, taking the check. "You could just ask 'They' how 'They' are doing. Give 'They' a call. Maybe…I don't know…stop by and visit… 'They'."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Nick said, shortly.

"Okay, okay," Winston said raising his hands. "Just saying."

"Well, thanks."

"Hey, since when do you use checks? I was expecting the usual sandwich bag full of quarters and loose singles."

"Oh, it's been a little while," Nick said thoughtfully, taking a deep breath.

"Chicago Bears checks, eh?" Winston smiled. "Man, can you believe they let just Julius Peppers walk like that?"

"Terrible decision!"

"Terrible. I know Allen's a good player. And he could be a decent replacement. But…"

"Why mess with a good thing?"

"Exactly."

"They're going to live to regret that one, 100%," Nick answered. After a moment, Nick's mood started to shift and he started herding Winston towards the door. "100%."

"Yeah…" Winston said, moving towards the door. "Yeah, I can see that."

As Nick pushed open the door, he flinched as the song again blasted through the room. His shoulders slumped as he gestured for Winston to pass by.

"Thanks for stopping by, man. Next time, you'll have to bring Coach or Schmidt. Stay for a beer or two."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Winston said as he moved past Nick and slipped his glasses back on. Before he walked towards his car, Winston stopped and turned back to Nick. "She misses you. It's obvious as hell, man. She's trying, but… she misses you."

Nick tugged on his ear before giving Winston a quick nod. Winston nodded back and, feeling satisfied that he'd conveyed his point, turned and walked back to his car. Nick's eyes followed part of the way as he slowly let the glass door close in front of him. He rested his forehead on the door momentarily before locking the deadbolt and turning back into the room. His fingers spun the checkbook in his left hand as he walked over to the couch. As he collapsed into the soft fabric, he lifted the small booklet before his eyes for a moment, examining the Chicago Bears logo. Nick let his head fall backwards, shutting his eyes as he allowed a memory he normally would've avoided to enter his mind.

_It was months ago, in the loft. The day the checks arrived in the mail from the bank. The ordeal with his father's 'inheritance', along with his rather rash and unwise spending spree, had landed he and Jess in their most intense argument to date. But, an argument that had only served to strengthen their resolve, and push them forward as a couple. _

_That day, he had paced in his room as he waited for Jess to arrive home from work. Hearing the loft door open and her keys hit the adjacent table, he gave himself a look in the mirror. He passed his fingers through his hair before checking the front pocket of his navy blue button down to ensure his surprise was where it should be. As Jess turned into Nick's room, knowing exactly where he'd be, he turned to face her, trying to hide his apprehension._

"_Hey there," she beamed as she entered the room. _

"_Hey yourself," he returned, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his own face as he took her in. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail apart from her ever-present bangs. She wore a simple green dress, knee length with short sleeves. His eyes instinctively shot head to toe, where her bare legs led to a pair of matching green flats. _

"_And what are you smiling about?" she asked as she approached, wrapping her arms around his neck before planting a hurried kiss on his lips. Nick felt the satisfaction flow through her slight frame as she stepped back and exhaled, not releasing her hands that had joined behind his neck. And he relished the fact that he had, in some way, caused that satisfaction._

"_Oh, nothing," he answered in evasive fashion._

"_Nothing?" she asked, cocking her head to the side suspiciously._

"_What? I just like your dress. Is it new?"_

"_This old thing?" she answered, looking down and quickly shaking her head as she looked from her left shoulder to her right. "You've seen this a million times before."_

"_Jess, I don't think I've ever seen you wear the same dress twice."_

"_Nick!"_

"_Serious, Jess. I don't know how you…"_

"_Don't worry about it."_

"_I mean it. Where do you keep all these dresses? I've seen your closet. It's not that big."_

"_Don't worry about it," she said again before quickly lifting her head and kissing him again, ending any potential for further debate. This time, she let the kiss last for a few moments before breaking away._

"_I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" Nick asked._

"_I was about to ask you if you had something in your pocket, or if you were just happy to see me?"_

"_We'll, I guess I'm always happy to see you, but…" Nick trailed off._

"_Nick, I'm kidding," Jess said, finally releasing her hands from behind his neck and taking a step back. "Your pocket," she finished, pointing at his chest._

"_Oh, right," Nick said, looking down._

"_What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just… I have something for you."_

"_Ooh, a present?"_

"_Well…"_

"_You know I love surprises."_

"_Jess, can I… can we…" Nick said, still looking down. Jess looked at him, concerned, and waited for him to get where he needed to go. After a few moments of insecurity, he reached into his pocket, and handed the piece of paper to Jess. "Just… here."_

"_What's this?" Jess said, mostly to herself, as she took the piece of paper from Nick. As she studied it, Nick watched on as her expression changed from concern, to confusion, to surprise. She looked up at him, and smiled. "Nick! Is this…"_

"_Yeah, the checks came today. You know, from the bank. And I wanted my first check to be to you, Jess. For the bills you paid, for the money you bribed Winston with. For… well… for everything."_

_Jess reached out and put her left hand on Nick's shoulder. She slid her hand down his arm until she found his right hand and took a hold of it. _

"_Thank you," she nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. _

"_Yeah, well. It's what's right," Nick said, squeezing back. "I wasn't ever going to let you take on my burdens. I never would. Even if… you know… you basically robbed me."_

"_Yeah," Jess said, grimacing. "Yeah, it's kind of a thing I have. I meddle, I fix. I… I need to work on it."_

"_Well, we both got things to work on I guess."_

"_I guess…"_

_They stood in silence for a while, looking at each other. Jess brought Nick's hand up to her chest and held it for a moment. She then lifted it to her mouth, kissed it gently, and let it drop._

"_So, how does it feel to have your fist checking account?" Jess asked eagerly._

"_Oh, it's not my first checking account."_

"_Oh?"_

"_No, no. I had one in high school. Lasted on into college. Until…"_

"_Until what?" Jess asked._

"_Well, until I was offered a credit card from some kid on the south green."_

"_How's that?" _

"_Yeah, they had these booths set up all over campus freshman year offering credit cards. Turns out 28% interest rates aren't such a great deal."_

"_I see."_

"_Who knew?"_

"_Well…"_

"_I know, I know. I should've paid more attention in my personal finance class junior year."_

"_You took a personal finance class?"_

"_Yeah. But don't worry, I almost never went."_

"_Gotcha."_

"_And when I did go, I spent most of the time staring at Casey Palmer's legs. Not paying attention to Mr. Whatshisname."_

"_You don't remember the teacher's name?" Jess asked, smirking._

"_No, not really."_

"_But you remember this little chippy with the legs? What was it? Casey…"_

"_Casey Palmer."_

"_But of course."_

"_Well, she had great legs," Nick said, playfully._

"_Mmm hmm."_

"_Especially on Fridays. See, that's when she used to wear her cheerleading outfit."_

"_Easy now."_

"_Our colors were blue and white. She wore it well," he shrugged._

"_Hey Nick?"_

"_Yeah Jess?"_

"_Don't push it."_

"_I dunno, Jess. I kind of like getting you a little worked up."_

"_And why is that?" Jess said, stepping towards him._

"_Well, because that usually ends with me getting a little worked up."_

"_And?"_

"_And we both know where that goes."_

"_That we do," Jess said with a smile. She reached past Nick's shoulder and slammed the door to his room shut and embracing him in one motion. With no further invitation needed, Nick lifted her off her feet, and started to carry her towards his bed._

Back in his storefront apartment, Nick's head snapped forward, his trip down memory lane coming to an abrupt and forceful end. He sat up and wiped his forehead with his arm. He frowned as he pulled his arm away, noticing the pool of sweat that had transferred from his brow to sleeve of his hoodie. Giving his head a shake, he leaned over the coffee table and adjusted the screen to his laptop. He took a deep breath, and started typing.

**Yeah, so this one took a while to get going on. And then it sort of got long. But I thank you for making it through, and I hope you enjoyed it. As always (can't say it enough) thanks for taking the time.**


End file.
